


Black Market

by resistanceradio



Category: XCOM (Video Games) & Related Fandoms
Genre: Original Character(s), Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-08
Updated: 2019-04-07
Packaged: 2019-04-20 03:38:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 35,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14252220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/resistanceradio/pseuds/resistanceradio
Summary: The Black Market; neutral territory for everyone involved in the war; XCOM, ADVENT, The Chosen and others, all forced to play it cool and try not to murder each other.





	1. A Deal is Struck

The Black Market was booming. The building was alive with the bustle of Skirmishers, Reapers and Templars alike on good days, and now XCOM was joining in the micro economy too. Resistance cell leaders from nearby regions had begun show up frequently to trade produce and intel for weapons and armor. And above all, the Buddhist monastery was the safest place in the world. Hidden in the impregnable mountains of Tibet, the monastery was built like fortress. ADVENT had tried plenty of times to destroy the fortress but had never succeeded in even getting close enough, by air or land, to deal any sort of damage.

Djore Pemba glowed with pride. He may not have been the official boss of the market yet, but when baba saw how many sales he had managed to rake in by introducing XCOM to the market? Djore grinned wide as he took the data pad out of Bradfords hands. He flicked through the files on it. Plenty of juicy intel and gossip on ADVENT’s latest plans, collaborators and weapon upgrades. Even juicier stuff about XCOM’s latest projects.

“Yeah, this is good stuff Central.” Djore placed the data pad on the table in front of him. He reached under the desk, removing the red data pad and slid it towards John. “There you go! All yours now.” Djore had, by a series of extremely fortunate events, managed to get his hands on a prime piece of intel from some particularly high-ranking ADVENT soldiers. The information contained something about an alien facility. Whatever.

Bradford collected the pad into his hands and nodded at Djore.

“Thanks. We really needed this.” He said. Bradford then leaned forwards, his voice lowered. “I have to ask though. Where’s old Blackjack?” Djore looked over at the backroom. Inside, his baba, Blackjack Wheeler, who’s real name was Tseten Pemba, was fast asleep on an old tatami mat. The old man had been sick for some time with a lung infection and hadn’t had the energy to move much. The thought was painful to Djore, but he pushed it down, put on a charming smile.

“Old man just decided to give me the reigns for a few weeks. Says I should learn how to _actually_ conduct business.” Djore shrugs. Bradford nodded and looked around the table. It was covered from top to bottom in goods. Data pads stacked high, gun modifications and samples of alien alloys and elirium crystals. Djore knew what Bradford was thinking. There was far more for sale now than there had ever been under Blackjack. Far, far more.

Blackjack had made a point of acquiring all of his goods legally, in order to avoid suspicion from ADVENT administrative officers. The only reason anyone actually called him Blackjack was because when he lived in America, he had owned a playing-card shop. He wasn’t corrupt by any means.

Djore, however, had no such moral restrictions. He had started to acquire most of the good for the Black Market via less than reputable sources. Arms dealers and thieves made up most of Djore’s personal list of acquaintances.

“This is way more than what Blackjack usually has in stock.” Bradford said, gesturing to the table. “I’m guessing you didn’t get these through the usual sources.” He said. Djore noted how it wasn’t a question, it was a statement. Djore raised his hands defensively.

“I’m not a thief. I’m just really good at acquiring things that aren’t mine.” Djore said. Bradford huffed.

“Alright. As long as you keep getting more of this stuff. We’re going to need it.” He said, waving the data pad. Djore nodded and waved at the XO as he marched away. Djore watched as he collected the group of soldiers he had brought with him; a woman wearing a cap, a tall, dark and handsome man with a drone and a woman with bright pink armor and blue hair. Djore would know all of their names soon enough.

He collected the day’s haul and made his way to the back room. He passed through the door into what had once been the abbot’s room. Inside, a frail old man was lying on the bed, snoring heavily. He coughed in his sleep, a painful, hacking sound that made Djore flinch. He set the data pads down on the floor and made his way over to his grandfather. Blackjack rustled in his sleep as Djore laid a hand over his forehead. His fever felt slightly less intense now. Good.

Djore set some milk tea and sat down to look through the data pad Bradford had given him. There were files on ADVENT officials and storehouses for weapons and modifications. Djore would have to organize a raid on the next transport that came through if wanted anything. He flipped through various files, taking in the names of soldiers that XCOM had recruited. Jane Kelly, Mary Williams, Michael Bennett… all very interesting but there wasn’t anything really intriguing in these files. Until Djore found a file he couldn’t open. He narrowed his eyes at the flashing red symbol. Access denied? Djore leaned over to a small table and plucked a USB up from off of it.

“Files locked?” He muttered, sliding the USB into the side of the pad. “Well I’m the locksmith.” In a matter of moments, the file was open. Djore flicked his finger over the file, watched it open and…

“Holy shit.” He cried. Djore covered his mouth and looked over at his grandfather. The old man hadn’t shifted in his sleep. Good. Djore looked back at the images on the screen. Green tubes, hundreds of them, all filled with people. People who were in the process of being melted. Djore flicked past them to a report of a chip found in the Commanders head. She had been used against XCOM for twenty years; hundreds of battle scenarios running through her head, the center of the ADVENT network until she had been removed.

“So that’s why they got dumber…” Djore mumbled. The ADVENT troopers that he had encountered more recently had seemed a little less intelligent than usual. Djore flicked to another sub file. The Chosen? Djore read on and was a little bit terrified of what he learned. Mentally unstable alien demigods with the authority to do whatever they want? No thanks. Then the piece de la resistance appeared on screen. The Avatar Project. ADVENT’s most top-secret project, one that required astronomical amounts of funding and the lives of millions of people.

Despite this wealth of terrifying, mind-boggling and abominable information, Djore found himself smiling. This right here? This was prime blackmail material. Djore could only imagine how many goods he could procure if he played his cards right. Djore grinned as an idea, one of his most ambitious and deceitful yet, came to mind.

                        

* * *

 

 

The ADVENT administrator stared, dismayed at the information in front of him. The images of people, half melted in their stasis pods weren’t what the man was worried about however. It was the fact that this young man had them. Djore grinned wide as he pulled the data pad away. The administrator leaned over and hissed.

“How did you get those images.” He whispered. The panic rose in his chest as Djore grinned wide, shrugging.  
“Let’s just say I am very good at my job. Now, what do you suppose I’m going to do with these pictures?” He asked. The administrator stared at Djore for a moment, before his face fell.

“You cannot release those to the public. Everything the administration has done—”

“What the administration has done? What they’ve done is melt some innocent people down into glowing green sludge for gods know what reason.” Djore said. “So, I think I am going to do the righteous thing for once and release these to the public. You keep telling me to develop my moral compass so here we are!” Djore kicked up his feet onto the desk and began to press meaningless buttons on the data pad. The administrator began to babble incoherently.

Djore knew that this particular administrator was heavily involved in the Avatar project, the project that was murdering people by the millions for whatever reason. If these photos got out, they would most likely be passed off as the attempts of dissidents to destabilize ADVENT, but this man would be discreetly put to death for letting them get out.

This administrator was also one who had agreed to trade with Djore in order to turn a profit outside of the money he already got. _What a_ _coincidence_.

“I’ll give you anything! Anything, please don’t release those photos!” Djore stopped tapping the screen and looked over at the administrator. Djore’s expression was positively vulpine as he set the pad down and leaned over the desk.

“Anything?” He purred. The administrator nodded, gulping down his fear. Djore sat up and steepled his fingers, suddenly all business.

“I want triple the supplies, triple the weapons and triple the mods that I’ve been recieving. All at the same price we have currently set of course.” Djore said. He revelled in how red the administrators face became. He spluttered, trying to refuse but Djore’s finger hovered back over the data pad.

“Uh-uh! You said _anything_.” He warned. The administrator seemed to deflate, defeated. He nodded and began tapping away on his computer. The administrator entered the information and confirmed the transaction. The agreement was set and Djore now just had to wait for everything to come together. Djore stood and took the administators hand, shaking it formally.

“I’ve done all I can.” The administrator said, voice quiet. Djore nodded. A friendly smile spread across his face.

“I have what I came for my friend.” Djore said. Then, suddenly, he pulled the administrator in, so that his mouth was at the man’s ear. “But if you even think about telling any of your precious officers or the Speaker about this? Well let’s just say that those innocent people aren’t the only ones who’ll be being _liquidated_.” Djore released the man’s hand and made his way over to the door.

“Well ta-ta! I’ll just be up in market, with all my new goods!” Djore teased, shutting the door behind him.

Just wait until baba sees _this_.

 

* * *

 

 

“How the hell?” Bradford asked. He stared at the Black Market. It had been transformed!

Everything was bright with lights and paper lanterns, and sofa’s and divans sat in the center of room, at the feet of the Buddha statue. There was even a set of instruments in one corner and a jukebox was playing music. The table, normally only stacked with a few goods and transformed into a real store front. Blackjack was back, leaning over the counter.

“Bradford! Look what Djore has done to my market!” He shouted, before keeling over to cough. Bradford spread his hands wide, unable to think of what to say.

“I like it!” The Commander said. She was standing next to Bradford now. Alexandra looked around the room and gestured to the seats and instruments. Flynn and Mary were sprawling themselves on the sofas and looked like they were about to start a pillow fight. Mox was staring in disbelief at the jukebox, chattering away about human music. Elena was trying not to laugh. “I think it looks more inviting now.” Blackjack grumbled under his breath as Bradford handed him the intel files.

“It was good as it was before.” He said. The Commander smiled at the old man in a knowing way.

“Just because something works doesn’t mean it cannot be improved.” She said. Bradford chuckled. The Commander always was good at giving one sentence lectures. Blackjack couldn’t disagree with her either. He sighed and shrugged and grumbled but didn’t rebuke Alexandra’s statement. "How did he manage to get all this together anyway?" She asked. Blackjack sighed.

"Djore blackmailed an ADVENT administator thanks to intel you gave him." The old man said. "He managed to triple our income without increasing the costs we have to pay. But why did he use _blackmail_? Have I taught him nothing about honesty?"

Djore then appeared from the back room, holding a phone to his ear. His arms were piled high with boxes labelled ‘Mods’ and ‘Rush R.’. He was chattering away on the phone to what sounded like a resistance Haven. He set the boxes and down rushed this way and that, attempting to find something.

“Got it!” He exclaimed. He held up a box of grenades. “Alright Denmother, I’ve got a box of military grade grenades here. I think they cost about… ten litres of water?” Blackjack rolled his eyes and turned back to Bradford.

“Kids nowadays… always so busy! Always rushing around, blackmailing government officials, talking so fast you can't understand them! Bah!” He mumbled. The Commander watched Djore rush around, organizing files and writing receipts. Alexandra couldn’t help but think that Djore was going to revolutionize the rebellion. He had successfully blackmailed an ADVENT official and was supplying almost all resistance havens in surrounding regions. Djore was one of the keys to success.

Djore set the phone down and turned to tell his grandfather about their new deal. Djore jumped slightly as he saw a woman standing in his way. She was tall, really tall, and wore glasses that mostly obscured her eyes.

“Djore Pemba? Can I speak with you for a moment?” She asked. Her voice was motherly, calm. Her eyes were greyish-blue. Djore nodded.

“Sure, but uh… who exactly are you.” She blinked and tilted her head.

“You don’t know who I am?” She asked. Djore shrugged.

“You’d think the confused look and blank stare would have answered that for you.” He said. Alexandra laughed heartily.

“That’s alright. I’m the Commander, but just call me Alexandra.” She said, extending a hand. Djore took it quickly.  
“Wow, uh… It’s nice to meet you. I just thought you would be less… uh…”

“Monolithic? Yeah, I get that a lot.” The Commander asked. Djore had to agree. The woman was rather monolithic. The Commander walked over to the sofas, where Mary and Flynn were battling it out with the fluffy red pillows that had adorned the sofas.

“Quiet down! I need to talk to someone.” The Commander ordered. Mary and Flynn sat down instantly, looking sheepish. Djore was impressed. Even his grandfather didn’t have this amount of control over people. Once they were sitting, Alexandra began to speak.

“Djore, it’s come to my attention that you have a keen business sense and little to no moral boundaries when it comes to getting what you want.” She said. Djore leant back slightly, relishing the compliments. “For these reasons, I have decided that you are _crucial_ to overthrowing ADVENT.” Djore sat up, confused.

“Uh… what? Why? I’m a businessman not a soldier.” Djore asked.

“You have resources. Resources that XCOM could never obtain.” The Commander admitted. “As far as I know, you have a direct access to the ADVENT network that you use to stop supply trains, blackmail administrators and disrupt officers. That sort of power is valuable.” Alexandra said. Djore waited to see where this was going.

“I want you to be a… spymaster of sorts. To collect intel, disrupt transports, locate VIP’s and collaborators. In return, I will help supply and maintain the Black Market. You scratch my back, I’ll scratch yours.” Djore stared, wide eyed at the offer. This was just too good to be true. But who was he to refuse such a generous offer? Djore took the Commander’s hand and grinned.

 


	2. Uninvited Visitors

The Black Market was quiet. Too quiet. Djore never really liked the midnight shift anyway, which was why he had confined himself to the back room instead of the main hall, where the actual black market was. The problem with setting up an illegal trading ring in a Buddhist temple was that the silence was stifling when no one was around. Djore never liked complete silence... it unnerved him. Djore sighed and took another sip of milk tea, eyes blinking rapidly. The shine of the data pads was killing his vision.

Ever since Djore had agreed to work with the XCOM, mostly due to the Commander's excellent way with words, he had gotten about two to three hours of sleep a night, _at most_. He would never admit it, but Djore was beginning to run himself ragged. He was exhausted from nights of hacking, negotiations, blackmail and espionage. His eyes were bloodshot from the hours spent staring at the screen of his computer. To be fair, Djore had gotten plenty of work done; he had obtained several pieces of valuable research data, information on ADVENT's plans, and several engineers to hand over to XCOM. Setting aside a large chunk of the market's stock just for one group however had quickly become tiresome. Plenty of other clients had gotten increasingly frustrated at the lack of elirium crystals and alloys for sale.

Djore finished up reading the data pad and set it down, stretching his arms over his head. He rolled over to fetch his blanket and made his way over to one of the sleeping mats. He had just sat down when the door to the room was flung open and Blackjack rushed in. He closed the door as quietly as possible, leaving the room in darkness. Djore was confused. In the dark, he could see the whites of Blackjack's eyes. He looked frenzied, like he had just seen something explode or melt. Had Djore not secured the elirium crystals? Oh god, if some had managed to work their way through the crates and onto the other materials... But Blackjack rushed over to Djore, gripping him by the shoulders.

"Djore what the hell have you done now?" He hissed. Djore frowned and looked up at the ceiling. He contemplated what he could have done to make his grandfather so crazed but came up with... nothing. Blackjack shook Djore again. "First you make a deal with those wretched insurgents and now you have brought devils to our door!" He said. Djore frowned. He couldn't remember bringing demons to the market. Wait...

"Whoa, whoa! Baba what do you mean?" Djore asked. He finally noticed the shaking in Blackjack's hands, the tight grimace of his teeth. The old man pointed to the door that led to the main hall.

"There are _rakshasa_ in our home!" He hissed. Djore jolted slightly at that. When he was younger, Blackjack would tell Djore stories about blue-skinned demons, _rakshasas_ , who tried to entice good people into sin and would even eat them, devouring them alive and drink their blood. Djore had never heard baba mention the creatures outside of his stories... so what could scare him so much as to make him mention those monsters?

Djore crept towards the door, unwittingly tip-toeing. He quickly and quietly opened the door and made his way down the hallway to the main hall and peeked his head around the corner... And immediately pulled back, stunned. What the hell? Djore looked again and tried to make sense of what he was seeing.

The three creatures were hanging around the seats in the center of the room. Two were sitting while the third, the largest of them, stood, pacing around with his arms crossed. They would have been beautiful if it weren't for the fact they looked like twisted, grotesque versions of humans. The blue skin however, really did remind Djore of the stories of rakshasas that his grandfather had told him.

The biggest one was wearing sharp, almost demonic armor, and had a mane of stark white hair that reached down his shoulders. He looked old but moved gracefully, as though he were no older than Djore was. It reminded him of a shark.

The one sitting on the floor looked feminine, and had strange tubes hanging down from the back of her armor clad head. She sat in a lotus position, eyes pointed down to the floor. She took deep breaths, as though she were meditating. The markings that streaked down her face and her tense muscles reminded Djore of a cheetah, or a snow leopard.

The third and final creature was draped dramatically over one of the divans, head resting on a gloved hand. It was almost entirely wreathed in shadow, and its eyes were no more than two red dots inside a black hole, though Djore could see its mouth, twisted into a lazy smirk. Djore couldn’t really place this one like he could the other two. It tapped its other fingers on the barrel of a pistol on its belt. It looked as though it were expecting something happen... expecting that someone would come out to meet them maybe?

Djore turned back to his grandfather, who was staring wide eyed at him from inside the back room. Djore quickly made his way to his grandfather, who sputtered out a question.

"What are you going to do about them?" He asked, voice no louder than a breath. Djore placed his hands together and looked his grandfather in the eyes.

"First of all? I didn’t bring them here. I don’t even know those guys. And second? I'm going to talk to them."

"What?!" The old man said, trying to keep his voice down. Djore raised his hands in a placating gesture.

"I think they may be here to bargain a deal just like _everyone else who comes in here._ Let me handle it. Set some milk tea and prepare a data pad and stay out of sight. I'll handle the aliens." Djore said. Blackjack found no reason not to stay out of sight and he scuttled back into the darkness of the room. Djore stood and smoothed back his hair. He adjusted his clothing and took a deep breath. _I am_ way _to sober for_ _this_ , he thought. Djore walked out into the main hall and spread his arms.

"Welcome to the Black Market! Please excuse the wait, I wasn't expecting visitors at such a late hour." Djore said, striding up to the aliens. The female one stood and the turned to Djore. As Djore came closer and closer, he began to realize just how much the aliens towered over him. He stopped just above the seating area and shrugged. "Though I do suppose all the best things happen at night." He said, trying for a joke to break the ice. The large one and the female one said nothing, but the alien lounging on the divan grinned wide and seemed to almost laugh under his breath. Djore swallowed and tried not to focus on the razor-sharp teeth that lined the things mouth. The female alien stepped forwards, back straight and hands resting at her side.

"I am Jax-Hur Tessura. These are my brothers, Kon-il Neylor and Fal-Rai Khomain." The alien said, gesturing to the large one and the shadowy one in turn. Kon-il sneered at Djore, seemingly disgusted by his mere presence, while Fal-Rai gave a playful wave with his fingers. "We are here to discuss a deal with you and your... black market." Jax-Hur said. The words didn't role of her tongue naturally. She seemed almost hesitant to speak about the market. Djore nodded and clapped his hands together.

"Great! Well, take a seat and I'll go get my things." Djore said, turning away and trying to walk calmly towards the back room. As he entered, his grandfather handed him a tray with a tea pot full of tea and four cups. The data pad was tucked neatly under Djore's arm and he made his way back to where the three aliens were waiting.

Kon-il had finally deigned to take a seat on one of the chairs, while Jax-Hur sat, again in a lotus position, on one of the floor mats. From the way they were positioned, one might think that Kon-il was the one in charge but to Djore, it looked like Jax-Hur was the real leader. So far, the other two aliens hadn’t spoken, letting Jax-Hur lead the discussion. Therefore, Djore would focus his attention on her instead of the other two. Djore arrived and set down the tray, placing himself on one of the low chairs. He raised the tea pot and poured himself a generous cup of tea.

“Milk tea anyone?” Djore asked, smiling at Jax-Hur. Kon-il scoffed and crossed his arms over one another.

“We have no need for such trivial, _human_ things. We are children of the gods! We have no need of sustenance for the Elders blessed us with the ability to sustain ourselves on _pure_ psionic energy! Your simple human pleasures mean _nothing_ to us.” He proclaimed. Djore stared at Kon-il and blinked.

“So no tea then?” He asked. Kon-il glared daggers at the young man, gritting his teeth. Jax-Hur sighed heavily, as though Kon-il’s sudden lecture wasn’t necessary, but certainly wasn’t new. Fal-Rai who had listened to his brother speak, sat up from where he had been lounging.

“I’ll have some tea!” He said, staring at Kon-il. Djore quickly handed the cup over.

“I don’t want any.” Jax-Hur said. “Shall we proceed with the negotiations?” She asked, producing a data pad from god knows where and placing it on the table. Djore nodded and leaned over the table to get his own data pad. He stifled a laugh as he watched Fal-Rai drinking the tea, loudly, staring straight into Kon-il’s face, who in turn looked like he was about to burst a vein in his head. Djore couldn’t help but think that these aliens acted a lot like human siblings would. Djore turned back to Jax-Hur, trying to stifle the amused smile on his face.

“We wish to make a deal that concerns the payments you are receiving from XCOM.” Jax-Hur began, turning the data pad towards Djore. He stared down at the screen and read through the reports of extra equipment and eliruim that XCOM had been buying from the market. “Fal-Rai has deduced that the Commander must be paying you for these supplies with intel. Is that correct?” Djore raised an eyebrow and looked back over at Fal-Rai. The alien shrugged lightly.

“People like the Commander are predictable.” He said, leaning on the divan again. Djore frowned and looked back down at the data pad.

“That sounds about right. Actually, at first, I demanded that they give me access to all their weapons and technology as payment but the Commander told me that was impossible. So, I get intel instead.” Jax-Hur looked over at Fal-Rai, who had now spread his arms wide like a mockery of Jesus of Rio.

“Impressive brother.” She said. Kon-il sighed slightly.

“Yes, quite remarkable.” Fal-Rai turned and grinned at Kon-il.

“Did you just agree with our sister, and complement me? At the same time?” Kon-il blanched and raised a hand.

“No, I-”

“No, too late! You can’t take it back now!” Fal-Rai said, giggling loudly. Kon-il fumed even more now arms crossed over his chest. Jax-Hur sighed loudly.

“Now that we have established that your prediction was correct brother, down to the smallest detail, we can discuss our proposition.” Jax-Hur pulled the data pad away and stared Djore in the eyes. He swallowed and tried not to show how unnerved he was. From this angle, Jax-Hur really did look like a leopard. She had the same focused eyes of the predator.

“We want to receive monthly payments of intel in exchange for supplies that we deem irrelevant to our goals. Those would include alloys, eliruim, cores and other such materials. We believe this is acceptable.” She stated that last part not as a question, but as irrefutable. Djore raised an eyebrow. Evidently, Jax-Hur had never been to a trading negotiation in her life. Her naivety of such matters, despite her intimidating and professional aura, was kind of funny to Djore. He leaned back, crossing his arms and making a show of taking a deep, contemplative breath.

“Wow, that is really an interesting proposition, a valuable one too…” Djore mused, stroking his chin. Jax-Hur and Kon-il leaned forwards, fooled by Djore’s act. But Fal-Rai stayed seated. Djore could see that he wasn’t falling for it. “But I don’t really have use for another deal!” Kon-il’s eyes widened and he bared his teeth. Jax-Hur sat back, frowning.

“How so?” She asked. Djore shrugged, pretending to be upset that he couldn’t take her deal.

“Well… it’s just that I already have several resistance havens, at least two administrators and all the resistance factions wrapped around my little finger, not to mention the Commander and her precious XO. I don’t actually _need_ your things. And anyway, the market is so full right now, I just can’t think of anywhere that I could store all those… supplementary goods.” Djore said.

Kon-il sprang up suddenly, hands now glowing with psionic power. He put his face right into Djore’s, fangs bared and clawed hands spread wide. Jax-Hur sprang back, on her feet now, and sword drawn. Fal-Rai tilted his head to stare quizzically at his brother.

“How _dare_ you?! You would refuse our gifts? Call them supplementary? We are the children of the gods! You should be honoured that we even came here to bargain with you! You should be grovelling at our feet, worshipping us like the degenerate you are!” He cried. He pointed one clawed finger at Djore’s chest, painfully poking it.

“You will accept our conditions, and you will do so willingly. Or you will feel the full, irrepressible force of the Elder’s true favoured child!” He growled. Djore stayed perfectly still, but in truth it was mostly out of fear. He was more than aware that he could die right now. Jax-Hur brandished her sword towards her brother, eyes wide and teeth bared.

“Kon-il. Think about what you are doing.” She warned. “You are compromising our mission.”

“I am going to get what we want!” Kon-il hissed, psionic power still rippling along his skin and hands. Jax-Hur stared incredulously at him.

“By threatening our mark? What use is that?” She asked. Djore tensed as he felt the clawed finger press harder against his chest, piercing through the layer of clothing and onto his skin. Djore forced himself to look into the alien’s purple eyes.

“I will give you to the count of three. If you do not accept our terms, I will slowly, and _painfully_ , carve out your heart.” Kon-il snarled. “3.” He began. Jax-Hur started to step towards Kon-il.

“Stop!” She cried.

“2.” Djore felt the clawed finger press into his skin painfully. If this was how he was going to die… then he was kind of upset about that. Jax-Hur, grabbed her brother’s arm and tried to pry him away, only to be met with a set of psionic restraints. Kon-il reached his hand back, razor sharp gauntlets at the ready, and opened his mouth to speak that final fatal number.

“1.” Fal-Rai said. The crack of his revolver was deafening in the room and the bullet flew clear and true through Kon-il’s head, between the eyes. Djore gasped for a breath he hadn’t known he been holding and watched as Kon-il slumped to the ground, lifeless. A bright purple beam then coalesced around his body and in a split second, he was gone, leaving a purple mist in his wake. Jax-Hur turned to look at Fal-Rai, eyes wide and face full of scorn.

“Get out of here sister. I can handle this.” Fal-Rai said, returning his revolver to its holster. Jax-Hur’s lips tightened into a thin line and swept her sword back into its sheath before disappearing from sight. Djore sighed in relief before looking back up at the remaining alien. So far, he hadn’t contributed anything to the conversation and Djore couldn’t make heads or tails of him. Fal-Rai smiled an almost charming smile and stood.

“You’ll have to forgive my brother. He’s not exactly good with people.” He said, making his way over to the table where the black market usual sold its goods. He ran his hand over the surface of the table. “Although I must admit, I knew that he was going to do that.” Djore frowned at the alien.

“I knew what was going to happen from the moment we stepped foot in here. From us arriving, to the turndown, to me having to shoot my poor brother in the head.” Fal-Rai said. He looked over at Djore again. “I also know that by the time I leave this building you’ll have agreed to… cooperate with us, Djore Pemba.” Djore was now officially anxious. He hadn’t given the aliens his name. He made it a point not to give strange aliens his name. Fal-Rai smiled and sauntered back over to the divan. Djore stood now, hands on his hips.

“Alright what’s your game? Also, how much do you know about me?” He asked. Djore knew something was up with this particular alien. He seemed to knowing, too… deliberate. Fal-Rai smirked and strode right over to Djore.

“Well, when one has connections like I do, no amount of secrecy will keep you safe. Although I must admit you were remarkably difficult to find in the system.” Fal-Rai said. He had walked up right next to Djore now, and with a hand on his shoulder led him over to the divan and sat him down. “But I’m not so upset about that. I’ve always liked my targets a little _mysterious_.” Fal-Rai said. He leaned back on the divan, one armed stretched around where Djore would be resting his head, if Djore were a dumbass (Djore wasn’t a dumbass). He stared at the alien quizzically before leaning away from him.

“Are you trying to seduce me?” Djore asked. Fal-Rai grinned a sharp toothed grin that made Djore want to get up and run as far away as possible.

“If only to kill you once I have what I need.” Fal-Rai purred. Djore nodded thoughtfully but on the inside Djore was running around in circles shouting. Djore then realized what this alien reminded him of. If Jax-Hur was a leopard and Kon-il was a shark, then this one was a spider. Not the small scuttling kind that fled at the sight of a human arriving, but the large, slow kinds. The kind of spider that seemed almost lazy until its prey was close enough… then _snap_! Djore raised his hands in surrender.

“Alright, I’ll bite. How exactly are you going to get me to agree to this deal?” Djore asked.

“I’m going to get you to agree to my terms because I have frozen all of your assets.” Fal-Rai said. Djore froze and stared at him with wide eyes, trying to figure out if this was a ruse. But the truth was there. Djore pointed a finger at the alien.

“You son of a bitch.” Djore said. Fal-Rai just smiled and spread his hands.

“Now you don’t have any ADVENT supplies coming in. I managed to find those administrators you’re so proud of and have them remove you from any supply requests. Of course, it didn’t take much convincing. Those guys never really liked you much.” He said, leaning in. “Which means that you _need_ us. Unless of course you want to be torn apart by a mob of angry resistance soldiers. Your life, everything you’ve worked for, is slipping through your fingers and into the palm of my hand. It’s up to you whether I let it all go to waste.” Djore took a deep breath and tried not to punch Fal-Rai in the face. He was right. Djore knew that the moment he couldn’t deliver, that first he would be disgraced, then persecuted and, finally, killed for essentially destroying to livelihoods and hopes of thousands of innocent people. There was no way he was getting out of this one. Djore then extended a hand.

“You have your deal. Just make sure the deliveries are on time.” Djore said. Fal-Rai grinned and took Djore’s hand. He squirmed involuntarily at just how feverishly hot the thing’s hand felt.

“I’ve always liked holding people’s lives in my hands. It reminds us both of how powerless they really are.” Fal-Rai mused, more to himself than to Djore.

“You’re a psychopath.” Djore stated, standing up and crossing his arms. Fal-Rai laughed as he made his way to the door.

“I prefer creative!” The doors to the market then slammed closed with a thunderous bang and Djore fell down onto divan. The strain of the past minutes came flooding in and he felt suddenly exhausted. Those sons of bitch’s. Freezing his assets. Djore had to admit, that was pretty clever. He sighed and sat up, reaching for his data pad and began to flick through the files he already had from the payments made by the Commander. He would have to up the prices for XCOM if he wanted to pay those aliens. Djore huffed as he made his way to his bed, flopping down onto the sheets.

Well… at least he got a good deal out of whatever the hell had just happened.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Djore needs an adult


	3. A Spur of the Moment Agreement

Djore had never been on board of an alien ship before. He marvelled at the high ceilings and sleek metal frame of the Avenger, running his fingers across the jutting metal shelves on the wall. Djore turned to look at the bridge, eyes squinting at the bright blue light of the hologlobe. Djore could only imagine what it would be like to have set up a black market in a ship like this! A mobile base, untraceable and covered with reinforced steel plating; the perfect headquarters.

He leaned against the railing over the bridge, watching the crew go about their business. A few soldiers were operating the communications systems, getting into contact with a nearby region. Another was talking with the on-board medical doctor and one of the engineers from the proving ground was trying to fix a broken monitor. Djore thought the ship looked very comfortable, that he ought to feel at home, but he couldn’t stop fidgeting. Djore was on board of the Avenger because he was due for a meeting with the Commander. Her summons had been sudden and Djore couldn’t help but feel that she knew about the deal he’d cut with the Chosen.

Djore hadn’t wanted to cut that deal in the first place! It was a deal forged in the fires of blackmail and subterfuge. But Djore had to admit that he was happier with the supplies he was getting from the Chosen. The alloys and crystals were higher quality than what he had gotten from his previous suppliers. And if he was being honest with himself… the Chosen were pretty fascinating to be around. Djore sighed and rubbed his wrists nervously, trying to figure out what he was going to say to the Commander when she asked about the deal. A hand on his shoulder snapped him out of his thoughts and he turned to find a steaming cup of coffee being placed in his hands.

“Here, you look like you could use this.” Djore looked up at the soldier who had given him the cup. Djore recognized him as XCOM’s medic. He couldn’t quite remember his name… Michael? Yeah, probably that.

“Thanks.” Djore said taking the cup. The coffee smelled like bitter shit but the sentiment was there. Michael leaned on the railing next to him, a cup folded between his own hands.

“You really don’t have to be so nervous around us. You know that, right?” He asked. Djore sighed and ran his hand through his hair, fiddling with the loose plait it was in.

“I’m not nervous because of you. You’re like… really nice.” Djore muttered. Michael started to reply but stopped. A laugh rang through the hallway and Djore looked up to find the Chief Engineer, Lily Shen, standing at the top of the stairs.

“How could anyone be nervous around Michael? He’s a big teddy bear.” Lily grinned wide before motioning to Djore. “Commander’s ready for you.” She said, making her way to door overlooking the control room. Djore swallowed the lump in his throat and placed the half empty mug of coffee back into Michael’s hands. Michael gave him an almost painfully sympathetic smile as Djore made his way to the Commander’s quarters. Djore cautiously entered the room, keeping his gaze downcast.

The Commander’s quarters were large and vibrant with XCOM patriotism. A banner hung from one wall and a case displaying models of what must be the first skyranger, aliens and a photo of the previous staff lined one wall, and on the other was a large group of monitors. But beside those decorations, the room was positively Spartan. In the middle of the room was a metal desk, lit up by a single desk lamp. Sitting in the simple leather chair, hands steepled in front of her face was Commander Alexandra Wellesley. Leaning against the monitors on the other side of the room were the Commander’s highest-ranking people; Dr. Tygan, the head scientist, Lily Shen, and John Bradford, the Commander’s XO. Djore gulped and made his way over to the desk, standing a few feet away from it.

“Commander?” Djore asked. He could feel sweat on his palms. Sweet Buddha, he shouldn’t be so _nervous_. He probably looked like he was hiding something. Alexandra motioned to the seat in front of the desk and Djore quickly took a seat, grateful to get off of his shaking knees. Alexandra straightened out and looked over at Djore. Her greyish-blue eyes were unnerving to say the least. It felt like she was boring holes into him with her gaze.

“Djore. It’s good to see you.” Alexandra said. Yep. She knew. Djore lifted his gaze and carefully aimed his gaze at her eyebrows.

“You too Commander. How’s everything holding up?” Djore asked. Alexandra shrugged slightly.

“Quite well. Your most recent shipment of alloys was excellent. Such high quality too. Tygan informed me that it was grade S5 metal. That’s quite rare.” Alexandra was now just toying with Djore. He sighed and placed his elbows down on the desk.

“Ok Commander, I know why I’m here. You can just go ahead and scold me or execute me or whatever!” Djore said. Tygan jolted slightly and Bradford raised an eyebrow.

“Dude… what are you talking about?” Lily asked, eyes wide. Even Tygan looked stunned. Djore looked from them to the Commander.

“They… don’t know? Do you know?” Djore asked, running his hands through his hair. If the Commander didn’t know about the deal with Chosen… then he had just blown his cover. But the Commander did not look bewildered in the slightest. If anything, her icy expression only fuelled Djore’s anxiety.

“I have my suspicions. So, is it true?” Alexandra asked. Djore shifted in his seat and looked down at his feet. He felt like a kid again, being scolded for breaking a vase or trying to eat a tide pod.

“I… yes. It is.” Djore mumbled. He hadn’t felt this ashamed since he was little. The Commander stood up and walked around Djore to the middle of the room. Djore turned to look at her. He could see the rise and fall of her shoulders, the clenched hand around her chin. Djore felt suddenly chilled, like the temperature had dropped several degrees. Then he saw his own breath coming out as tufts of fog. Djore noticed how her hair seemed to puff up around where the bun held it in placed. Bradford looked alarmed and, though he did not move from his position next to the monitors, he raised his hands in a calming gesture.

“Commander… Tell us what happened.” He said, quietly urging her to be calm. Alexandra finally sighed heavily. The temperature in the room rose slightly, so that Djore could no longer see his own breath. Alexandra turned towards him, her eyes shifting from blue to purple like a prism. Her hair was frazzled and Djore could faintly see the white roots underneath the brown. Lily and Tygan were still confused, casting each other looks of nervous bewilderment.

“Djore had been selling the intel we have been paying him with to the Chosen.” Djore flinched at the icy resignation in the Commander’s voice and the sudden cries of outrage from the three people in the corners. Lily had her hands in her hair, barely able to comprehend what she had heard. Tygan’s eyes flickered across thin air, as if reading invisible equations. Bradford stormed over to Djore and spun the chair so that the two were eye to eye.

“What the hell did you do? What did they offer you?” Bradford yelled. Djore tried not to wince at the spittle flying in his face as he came up with his answer.

“They didn’t offer me anything so much as they blackmailed me into the deal by freezing my assets.” Djore shrugged. Bradford didn’t look convinced. Djore sighed and leaned on the table. “I get why you’re upset but you have to understand, the business world isn’t exactly easy when aliens are involved. Also, you weren’t there! First one of them threatened to rip out my lungs and then another straight-up blackmailed me!” Alexandra sighed as she returned to her seat. Bradford turned towards the Commander, rubbing his temples.

“Commander, we have to cut ties with the market. If we don’t, we’ll be susceptible to the Chosen’s attack! If they learn enough about us… they could attack the Avenger when it’s vulnerable!” Bradford pleaded. The Commander leaned back into her chair, eyes closed and lips pursed. She was thinking, contemplating the words out of Bradfords mouth. Tygan now stepped forwards, casting a doubtful look at Djore.

“Commander, if I may… I don’t think that it is necessary to stop commuting with the Black Market, however we may need to reconsider what kind of intel we surrender. Maybe a simple paper trail of names and payments would work to deter the Chosen for a longer period of time.” Tygan said. The Commander spun her chair away, indicating that she needed more time to think. Bradford turned angrily towards the doctor.

“Are you kidding? Djore betrayed us! He’s dealing with those _things_ , giving them our secrets!” Bradford cried. Tygan held up his hands slightly.

“I agree, he did betray us but we can still rectify the situation—” Djore stood, knocking the metal chair back with a loud screech.

“Oh, _please_!” Djore shouted, throwing his hands up. All eyes were on him now. Djore huffed and leaned against the table. “I didn’t betray you people! How could I? I never swore any kind of oath to not sell your intel. And it’s not like I told the Chosen that I was buying your intel. Fal-Rai, oh sorry, the _Hunter_ , made the logical deduction that you were using intel to pay me! I just rolled with what the Chosen offered me. I could have said no! But I didn’t.” The Commander raised an eyebrow and spun around to face Djore. Djore strode to the center of the room and continued.

“And the reason I didn’t say no is because I am first and foremost a businessman. I also happen to be something of a con-man. You losing intel to the Chosen is on _you_ because _you_ were stupid enough to completely trust the fact that I would keep your secrets? And what did you base that on? The fact that you’re XCOM, saviours of humanity?” Djore glared at the Commander, narrow eyes now two dark slits on his face.

“I am the Black Market. I am _no-one’s_ ally; not the resistance’s, not the factions, not the Chosen’s and _certainly_ not yours.” Djore hissed. The silence that followed was almost palpable. It was at this point that Djore realized what he had just said. He had essentially announced that XCOM couldn’t trust him. They would break off their deal with the market. Djore’s knees began to shake and his mind raced. How could he fix this? Djore smoothed down his hair and walked back over to the desk.

“But I can offer compensation.” The Commander’s eyes snapped up to Djore’s face. She leaned back in her chair.

“Now that literally everyone uses the Black Market, there will come a time that all of you will end up there at the same time, guaranteed. So, from now on, it’s neutral territory. No one will be allowed to attack anyone when inside the market. You can’t attack the Chosen and they can’t attack you. Break that agreement and you’re banned for life; no more selling or buying goods and no setting your foot into the market ever again.” Djore said. Alexandra knitted her fingers together, lips pursed. Djore held up his hands.

“And before you say, ‘that’s not enough’, there’s one other thing that this new rule can offer you. You can _talk_ to the Chosen.” Djore said, emphasizing the word talk. Bradford crossed his arms.

“Talk?” He asked.

“And learn!” Djore added. “You are damn fools if you don’t think that the Chosen don’t want to actually talk to you people.” He turned to Lily.

“Lily, you know that mimic beacon you sold me?” Djore asked. Lily shrugged non-committally.

“Yeah?”

“Fal-Rai Khomain, the Hunter, saw it the last time he came around and do you know what he said?” Djore asked. “He said that he would _love_ to know how you developed it! Did you know that he’s an engineer? He designed most of the current ADVENT weaponry and transports. You could learn from each other in a neutral environment.” Lily’s eyes were wide, curious. She was seriously considering it. Djore turned to Tygan now.

“And you! You’re working on psionics right now, right? Well the moment you get Neylor, the Warlock, to start talking about psionics he doesn’t shut up. Think about the secrets he could reveal to you about the very nature of psionics! And the Hunter? He could rattle on about the physiognomy about aliens all day. He’s a hunter, remember? He’s killed and studied everything that’s ever walked or crawled.” Djore said. Tygan now looked fascinated.

“It would be rather intriguing to discuss those matters with experts…” Bradford shot Tygan a sharp look. Djore now turned to him.

“And Central? You could talk strategy with the Assassin. Learn how she thinks! Yes, she’ll learn how you think but you’re not in charge of the troops are you? So it won’t matter.” Djore pointed out. Bradford hesitated for just a moment before shaking his head and turning back to the Commander.

There was a moment of silence as the four people quietly confered with each other through shared looks and almost indiscernable twitches of the hands and shoulders.

“Alexandra, you can’t actually be considering this right?” He asked. Alexandra sighed heavily, tapping her nails on the surface of the table. Finally should stood and glared heavily at Djore.

“Alright. I’ll accept this. Most of my team seems to be on board with the arrangement anyway.” She said. Djore sighed in relief. Then jolted as the Commander grabbed the collar of his shirt. “But know this Djore Pemba; if this backfires, if any of my people get hurt? I will _personally_ make your life a living hell.” The Commander’s purple-blue eyes glowed ferociously.

Djore swallowed thickly and nodded. Alexandra let go of his shirt and motioned for him to leave. “Good day Djore.” Djore nodded and said his goodbyes.

Djore made his way out of the Commander’s quarters quickly. He shut the door behind him and leaned against the wall. He breathed out shakily. Why was that woman so damn scary? Djore rubbed his palms against his eyes and stood. He quickly made his way through the Avenger, passing by all the soldiers milling around the ship. Once he was out of the ship and in the fresh Tibetan air once again, Djore took a deep breath and fetched his mobile phone out of his pocket. He quickly set up a communique with the Chosen and sent them the information about the new rule.

Djore sighed and stuffed his hands into his pocket. He had created that new rule on the fly, as a desperate last resort to make sure he didn’t lose XCOM’s deal. But now that he thought about it, this could actually turn out to be quite useful. He wouldn’t have to worry about fights breaking out in the middle of the market and the mutual exchange of knowledge could turn out to be quite useful in the long term. Not just for XCOM and the Chosen either. Djore found himself smiling to himself as he made his way back to the market. He wasn’t sure just yet, but he may have just made the best decision of his career.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, it begins
> 
> \- so now there'll be interaction between djore, the chosen and the xcom soldiers  
> \- fleshed out the commander's character more. a scary lady


	4. Djore is not a Great Diplomat

“What do you mean you’re not Blackjack?” Djore stifled a laugh and shook his head.

“No, I’m Djore. My grandfather is Blackjack.” He said. Mary Williams, XCOM’s best sniper, crossed her arms and stared at Djore with a dramatically serious face.

“So you’re telling me that this whole time I’ve been referring to you as Blackjack and _no-one_ bothered to tell me?” Mary asked. Djore shook his head. Mary laughed and leaned back, running her hands through spiky teal hair. Over the past few months, Djore had interacted heavily with Mary, bargaining new prices and such. It hadn’t occurred to him that maybe she didn’t realize that he wasn’t the actual owner of the market.

“Oh my god, are you kidding me?” She asked. Djore chuckled and looked back down at the data pad, ticking off the last few boxes of goods that XCOM had bought from him. That came up to at least seven new pieces of intel. Djore finally stood and looked out over the market.

The place was crawling with XCOM troops; all of them were chatting, messing around, and trying to get the jukebox to play. Some soldiers were trying to play the large set of instruments set out at one end of the room. Some were good, and some really weren’t.

A day before, the Commander had called Djore to tell him that she was giving her soldiers a day off and wanted to send them to the black market. It’s not like they could go to an ADVENT amusement park, as great as those could be. Djore had agreed enthusiastically. He had just made several additions to the market that he thought the soldiers would adore. He had decided to use this opportunity to give the soldiers a tour of the building, to persuade them into coming around more often.

He had made several enticing offers to XCOM just a few weeks before to get himself out of trouble with the Commander. Now, he had to make good on that promise. So far Djore could tell, the soldiers didn’t know about his deal with the Chosen. If they showed up while the soldiers were here, then Djore would lose forty percent of his business, _instantly_. He had to give the soldiers a reason to stay. Djore made his way over to the feet of the Buddha statue, pushing carefully past the press of people, and raised his hands.

“Hello XCOM! Can I have your attention please!” It took a while but with some assistance from Michael and Jane, apparently the unofficial eldest siblings of the group, Djore managed to get relative silence in the room. “I’m going to start the tour of the market now so follow me!” As Djore made his way to a door at the end of the room, the gaggle of soldiers followed eagerly, chatting amongst themselves once more.

Djore made his way down the hallway, opening the first door. The old kitchen, refurbished with several refrigerators, coal stoves and ovens, gleamed in front of the soldiers. Djore picked out a few hungry eyes staring round at the room.

“This is the kitchen. You want actually good food instead of army rations, you come here. Just keep the place clean.” Djore said. Several soldiers stopped to look in the large fridge, ooh-ing and aah-ing at the fresh vegetables on the shelves. Djore couldn’t wait to see their reaction to the cupboard full of spices and fresh herbs from the small garden outside.

Djore walked through to another room, once used to store scriptures, now a library. He had stacked the shelves with pieces of literature from Cicero to Jules Verne. Several resistance havens had offered their books to Djore, hoping to protect them from ADVENT should they attack. Here, in this impregnable mountain fortress, the volumes were safe.

“These are some of the last copies of human written books in existence. You better treat them with the respect and care they deserve.” Djore warned, pointing his finger at the group in general. Several ran their hands reverently over the spines of the books, in awe of the feeling of actual paper beneath their fingers. Djore spied one soldier, a grenadier, actually smelling a book’s pages, coming away with the widest smile on his face. Djore then stopped at a large pair of double doors. He turned to face the group, a wide smile of his face.

“And here, ladies and gentlemen, is the piece de la resistance! I expect you all will spend a lot of time here.” Djore announced. He swung the doors open, letting the fresh Tibetan air stream through into the waiting crowd of soldiers. As they saw what lay beyond the doors, several soldiers gave shouts of joy and ran out of the doors.

The gym. Well, Djore supposed it was more of a sparring ground, but he had put some weights and cross-trainers in one corner, so he supposed it counted as a gym. The center was a simple gravel field, a few trees lined the edges to give protection from the wind and sun. Djore walked over to a large crate next to the door and opened it, pulling out a few simple wooden sticks, meticulously stripped of bark and smoothed down a shine. Djore had spent hours making sure they were perfect. He tossed two of the sticks to Jane and Flynn, who caught them easily.

“You can use this space to train yourself. Made those myself so that you can spar with each other, keep your senses sharp.” Flynn grinned and tapped Jane’s shoulder with one of the sticks, challenging her to a fight. Jane immediately took off after the other ranger, laughing wildly as she dual wielded two of the sparring sticks. Djore knew at this point that there was no way he was going to get the soldiers to leave the gym, so he began making his way back to the main room.

So, the tour was a success! The soldiers were thoroughly entranced with the facilities that Djore had set up. Most were in the gym, play-fighting with each other, while others were in the library and kitchen, relearning those tendencies that made human’s _human_. Cooking and reading for leisure, something that was unique to only their species. Djore skipped back into the main hall and crashed onto one of the divans. He closed his eyes and sighed happily. With the soldiers occupied, Djore could afford to give himself a ten-minute rest.

Now Djore had to think about how he was going to break the news about the Chosen to them. The Chosen weren’t exactly good with people. If Djore wanted this adjustment to go smoothly, he would have to tell XCOM about the Chosen being here months in advance so that they would be prepared if the aliens showed up. Djore understood that some of the soldiers had very personal rivalries with each of the Chosen, to the point of essentially being each other’s nemesis’.

So, get the soldiers comfortable and then bust out the news that the Chosen might be here when they are. _Might_. That was the working word here. Djore began rehearsing what he was going to say in his head as he rested. He even rehearsed what the soldiers would say in response to him, and what he would say back. Djore was disturbed from his thoughts by the sound of people coming into the room. Djore quickly checked his watch and sat up. Fifteen minutes of rest. Not too bad.

Djore was in luck though; the soldiers that had walked in were the least rowdy ones. Michael and Jane, always together, the psionic soldier Dawn, and Mary. They made their way over to the divans. Jane arrived first, sitting down in one of the giant armchairs.

“Djore, this place is amazing! How did you set all of this up?” She asked. Michael had taken a seat on the divan next to Djore, and Dawn and Mary had taken up the couch across from them.

“Oh you know, just asked for different payment from some havens. Things like fridges instead of bullets. The rest was just practical work. I must have like, a dozen blisters from having to haul all that stuff in here.” Djore said. Jane looked mildly impressed. Michael frowned and looked down at Djore’s hands.

“Is that what all the band-aids are for?” He asked. Djore shrugged and showed the medic his hand.

“Yeah. Most of them popped so I put alcohol on them.” Michael nodded, content with Djore’s handling of his blisters. Mary then raised a hand from where she lounged across Dawn’s stomach.

“So, is all this because of that time that the Commander called you in? Y’know, like a month ago? She looked _super_ pissed off.” Mary said. Djore cast a half-hearted scowl at Mary and sighed.

“In a way. All of this is mostly to keep you, XCOM soldiers that is, from leaving the market for good.” Michael tilted his head.

“What do you mean?” He asked. Djore froze for a moment before shaking his head.

“For now, that info is classified. Can’t tell you right now y’know… You just got here. It’s kind of startling news; I don’t want you guys running off yet.” He shrugged. Dawn tilted her head, purple eyes glowing unnervingly.

“You are aware that I can just, _make_ you tell us, right?” She asked, a joking lilt in her voice. Djore laughed and nodded.

“Yeah, but I’m just going to trust that you won’t make me do anything.” Djore said. He sighed and fiddled with the end of his plait, a nervous tick he couldn’t control. The other soldiers began talking amongst themselves about the market. Djore carefully added his own commentary, but he was too preoccupied in his own thoughts to actually focus on what was being said.

These people were essentially the leaders of the group of soldiers currently milling around the building. If there was anyone he could tell about the Chosen right now, to help with the adjustment period, it was these people! But, what if they reacted badly? Jane would certainly fly into an uncontrollable rage if she heard. Michael seemed like he would be the most reasonable about the whole situation, along with Mary. Dawn was a wild card though. Her cool confidence made her difficult to gauge. Djore tugged at his hair and sighed lightly. He jolted as he felt a hand on his shoulder. Michael was looking down at Djore, wide brown eyes full of concern.

“You alright Djore?” He asked. Djore lowered his hand and nodded as calmly as possible.

“Yeah! I’m fine. Just… thinking.” He said. Jane crossed her arms.

“Nah. You’re too nervous. Fidgety. You’ve got something on your mind.” She said. Djore shook his head, anxiety only climbing.

“No, I don’t. I’m fine.” Michael sighed and turned himself to face Djore properly.

“Djore, if there’s something you want to get off of your chest, you can tell us. We’re here if you need to talk. You know that right?” Michael asked. Djore stood and put his hands on his hips.

“Alright, _yes_ , I _do_ have something to tell you. But it isn’t the right time to tell you people. Besides, I’ve got months to prepare you guys for it!” Djore said.

Djore realized then, that he really shouldn’t have said that. Call it a hunch, or call it the door to the market opening loudly to reveal all three Chosen.

Jax-Hur Tessura, the Assassin, stood motionless in the doorway, face contorted with genuine surprise. She took her hand off of the door and stared at the soldiers one by one. Behind her, Neylor and Khomain stared curiously into the market. Neylor, upon seeing the soldier’s, shouldered past his sister and pointed a clawed finger at the group.

“You!” He roared, putting so much accusatory malice behind a single word that the whole room suddenly tensed up like a rubber band being stretched to its limit. Mary sat up and stared at the Chosen.

“What?”

The soldiers suddenly erupted into movement. Michael flung himself bodily over the back of the divan, out of sight of the Chosen. Jane jumped up from her chair with a roar and came back down in a fight-ready position. Dawn picked up Mary, set her aside on the floor, then alighted her psionic energy, purple and pulsing around her head like a halo. Michael then jumped back up, an old beer bottle in hand. He smashed it against one of the chairs and brandished the jagged end towards the unexpected visitors.

The Chosen had a similar reaction. The Warlock’s hair flared upwards as he prepared a psionic attack, teeth bared in an ugly snarl. The Assassin’s hand went to her katana, preparing to draw the blade. The Hunter did nothing. He walked in, looked over the group of soldiers before resting his gaze on Michael. Djore suddenly felt a tension so palpable, that if cut with a knife, would give everyone whiplash.

“Well, hello _XCOM_. I wasn’t expecting to see you here.” He said. Michael narrowed his eyes.

“Hunter. I was wondering why all the birds had suddenly stopped singing.” Michael stated, voice calm and flat. Michael turned to look at Djore and, through the look he was giving him, suddenly Djore understood why people listened to Michael. “Djore? You want to explain what’s happening here?” He asked. Djore felt a literal bead of sweat face down his face. Think Djore! Work on instincts!

“Uh… So I’m guessing you’re all wondering why you’re here! Together. In this room.” Djore started. Everyone stared at him. Instincts bad. Instincts bad!

“Ok so, a month ago the Commander asked me about the deal I have with the Chosen. And she wasn’t happy about it. So, I made a deal making the Black Market a neutral zone so that you,” Djore said, motioning to the soldiers and the chosen in turn, “Could benefit from learning from each other in a _tension free_ environment.” Jane stared at Djore, flinging up her hands.

“And you thought that was a good idea!?” She yelled. Tessura took her hand from her sword, posture relaxing ever so slightly.

“Djore has already informed us of this arrangement. I am surprised he has not informed you yet.” She said. Djore pointed at the Assassin.

“ _Yes_! Yes, I was going to tell them today actually but you guys burst in and made a mess of it all!” Dawn stared at Djore with a raised white brow.

“What exactly made you think that we would be ok with this… arrangement?” Dawn asked. Djore turned to her, hands squeezed together in frustration.

“You know, I rehearsed this exact conversation in my head and I would appreciate if you kept to the script.” He hissed. Mary’s head popped out from behind the sofa, teal hair ever wilder from her deposit onto the ground.

“Do you regret what you’ve done, Djore?” She asked, voice hilariously calm. Djore ran his hands through his hair and stared at his feet.

“I think having this conversation is at the top of my list of regrets to be honest.” He said. Djore clapped his hands together, startling Tessura. “Ok! Lets sit down and talk this out ok? Everyone just, take a seat.”

 

Djore rubbed his head in hands as he listened to the outraged argument bounce back and forth between the two groups. It had been a whole ten minutes since the Chosen had arrived but it felt more like ten hours. The two groups just couldn’t get over their enmity for each other. Except for Mary, who looked thoroughly enamoured with the three aliens. Dawn seemed to be the least upset with the whole situation, though Djore suspected that that was because she knew she could destroy them with a single flick of her wrist.

Michael, surprisingly, was the most upset. He had been standing during the whole conversation, arms crossed, refusing to look at them. He had only spoken to the Warlock and Assassin so far, completely ignoring the Hunter, who was making what looked like bedroom-eyes at the medic, though a more apt description would be murder-eyes. Although Khomain did give everyone that look, so Djore really couldn’t tell what was going on between them. Jane leaned forwards, glaring at the aliens from beneath her hat.

“And how do we know that you won’t try and kill us?” She asked. Tessura, professional as always, raised one hand in a placating gesture.

“Djore has informed us that should we attack any of you that we will forever be banned from the market.”

“So… can _we_ attack _you_ then?”

“No. Djore made it very clear, this is neutral territory.” Djore sighed and leaned back in his chair.

“Ok look.” He started, drawing everyone’s attention. “You can’t kill each other in here. Those are the rules.” Jane glared at him.

“And why not?” She growled. Djore threw up his hands.

“Because I said so! I can’t be here cleaning up blood and guts every time you come around; it’s just not efficient! I need to make money!” He shouted. Dawn nodded in agreement. “If you guys want me to get you elirium and stuff, you can’t just go around murdering each other. The point of neutral territory is for you to, to learn from each other. It’s strategic!” Mary raised a hand, like a child in school. Djore motioned for her to speak.

“So… what exactly are we supposed to do then? Talk to each other?” She giggled. Djore stared at her with tired eyes.

“Yes.” Mary blinked.

“Uh… about what? How much we hate each other?” Djore sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“ _Amitabha_! Are you all stupid or something!?” Djore asked. The Warlock huffed and turned away and Mary and grimaced sheepishly. Djore pointed at Jane and Tessura first.

“You two; you can spare with each other in the gym, learn some new tactics from each other.” Jane looked over at the Assassin, who simply nodded her assent. He pointed at Dawn and the Warlock next.

“You two can have discussion about Psionics and show each other new tricks. Neylor, you can lecture her about the true nature of psionics. Dawn, you can… I don’t know what. Just think of something.” Djore said. The Warlock looked over at Dawn, a disgusted sneer on his face. Dawn just smiled pleasantly back at him. Djore turned to Michael and the Hunter next.

“And you two can… uh… What exactly is your deal with each other?” Djore asked. The Hunter smiled a dagger-toothed smirk at Djore.

“He’s the Sherlock to my Moriarty. The Batman to my Joker.” Khomain said, a poetic lilt in his voice. Michael turned to glare sharply at the alien, teeth clamped together in anger. Djore didn’t think that Michael could ever look so angry yet here he was, glaring daggers.

“I don’t what any of that means, but I can tell you that I’m not your anything!” He snapped. Michael turned to look back at Djore, face set in an angry glower. “Why the hell did you think that we would be okay with this? You do realize that they have tried to, and will try to, murder us, right?” Khomain scoffed and waved a hand dismissively.

“Nonsense! We don’t want to kill you, or at least I don’t. There's no accounting for my dear brother. Besides, what use are you to us dead anyway?” He assured. Michael rolled his eyes.

“Oh right. You want to kidnap and torture us first, _I forgot_.” Michael shook his head and crossed his arms again, turning away from the conversation. “Just stay away from us okay?” He muttered.

That was news to Djore. The Chosen only ever talked about killing XCOM soldiers, not kidnapping and torture! Although, now that Djore thought about it, he realized that Khomain had never mentioned killing anyone other than his siblings. Djore felt a shiver run down his back. This new information added a whole new level of horror to the aliens. Khomain nodded and preformed a dramatic bow towards the medic, who turned away with a huff.

“Your wish is my command.” He purred. Djore finally stood and clapped his hands together.

“Alright. Then you and Mary can talk about guns or something.” Djore sighed. “Look, I can’t shove you guys together and expect you to become instant best friends but I can tell you not to fight while you’re in the market. So I’m telling you now, _don’t fight in the market_!” Djore shouted that last part, making everyone jump slightly.

Djore walked over to the sales table and slouched down in the chair. Great. Well this was just fantastic. True, this situation wasn’t a complete botch but still. The soldiers were now more on edge than ever and the Chosen looked ready to pounce at any moment. Djore looked back down at the group. Djore jolted suddenly at the sight of them.

They were mingling! Actually interacting with each other! Dawn had made the first move it seemed, approaching the Warlock. Despite his sneer, he was actually talking to her. Slowly, Jane made her way over to the Assassin, pointing to her swords inquisitively. The Chosen drew her blade, offering it to Jane. Djore held his breath for a moment, wondering if Jane would lash out with it. But no, she simply admired the blade, felt the weight of it in her hands. Mary had made her way over to the Hunter and was marveling over the grappling hook attached to his bracer, and boasting over her own Spider-suit. Djore breathed a sigh of relief. Michael hung back, leaning against a pillar, eyes cast down to the floor. But that didn't matter to Djore. The swelling pride and relief in his chest surpassed any worries he may have had may have had about the soldier. ‘ _See_ ,’ He thought to himself. ‘ _It all worked out in the end.’._

But even so, Djore could still feel the apprehension in the air. He could see the way Jane tensed when Tessura leaned over to point out a feature of her blade, the Dawn’s fingers curled up defensively when Neylor raised his hands theatrically to add to his impassioned speech. Mary was the least concerned of the group, seemingly unaware of Khomain’s knowing smile and the way he glanced at Michael, who was leaning against a pillar facing away from the Chosen.

All Djore could do was hope that this set up could last.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it begineth


	5. Disposing of a Challenger

The air was almost unbearably humid to Djore, down in the valleys of India. Djore had lived his whole life up in the mountains, where the air was dry and cool. Djore wiped his brow, grimacing at the sheen of sweat that came away from his forehead. Even with ADVENT’s sophisticated terraforming technology, they somehow hadn’t found a solution for the overbearing heat of the Calcutta city center.

Even the night-time was ridiculously warm. Djore found himself in the outskirts of the city center, in the slums where all the less-desirables lived. Mosquitoes buzzed around puddles of stagnant water and rats lived in the crumbling ruins of buildings. The desolate grey concrete monoliths and dingy streets were proof that not all were equal under the ADVENT coalition, despite what the Speaker may say. Djore wiped his hand off on his trousers and rounded a corner into a narrow street. Three people were waiting for the young man at the end of the street, under and old pre-war archway. Two humans and one Skirmisher stood waiting. The Skirmisher, a dark-skinned one wearing the armour of high-class ADVENT Priest, a cardinal, raised her hand in greeting.

“Djore. Finally found your way here?” She asked. Djore shrugged lightly.

“It wasn’t hard Lakshmi. I just had something to deal with at the administrators center first.” Lakshmi huffed and flicked her nails disdainfully.

“I don’t understand how you can stand to be around those hypocrites.” She sniffed. Djore smiled but said nothing. Lakshmi was a resistance leader after all. She had been created as a cardinal priest within the ADVENT chain and now that she was part of the resistance, was slowly trickling information down to the West Asian resistance. Betos and her were close, often meeting to discuss tactics.

Djore looked over at the two humans, who were removing the disguises that they had been forced to wear. “Romulus and Remus. Sweet Buddha, you two look even _more_ similar with the officer uniforms.” He said. The Romulus, the taller of the two, inclined his head politely. Remus grinned wide.

“Djore! Nice to see you in person for once. Never thought you’d come down from your ivory tower.” Remus said. Romulus and Remus were Djore’s gunrunners, and had been working in the region for some time now. They almost never came up to the market, but Djore still managed to keep a close eye on them. Djore smiled politely.

“I hope you two will be ready for whatever happens this evening.” Lakshmi nodded severely.

“Yes. I Do not think we will need them, but you can never be sure.” She said. Djore looked beyond the archway, taking in the large courtyard beyond it. Tonight, that courtyard would be the spot for a meeting organized between Djore and the Southern Asian resistance. Although, this was less of a meeting and more of a tense negotiation.

Djore had staked a claim to the entire West, South and Northern Asian sectors as the central Black Market for the region directly, and as the supplier for most resistance factions across Europe and Asia entirely. The man he was meeting with tonight, a hustler named Vikas, had suddenly began to throw his weight around, staking out Djore’s region for himself in a very unsightly way; back ended deals, intimidation of common resistance folks and administrators alike to gain access to resources, though Djore cared less about the latter.

Djore’s territory was being encroached upon by a sub-standard con-man, who relied solely on violence and sloppy rip-off’s. Djore had sent Romulus and Remus to re-establish control over his regions, only to have to two of them cause an all out riot in a resistance camp between Djore and Vikas’ men. Now, Djore found himself embroiled in the center of what was essentially a gang war. Djore didn’t get angry easily, but had Vikas _really_ pissed him off.

Lakshmi held up a hand and pointed into the courtyard. A group of three men had entered. Two of them were huge, enormous guys with arms big enough to crush watermelons, and between them was Vikas. Djore straightened his sleeves and smoothed down his hair. “Three on three. Lakshmi, you stay here and watch our backs, just in case.” He said. The priest nodded, stepping back into the shadows of the alley. Djore motioned with one hand to his gunrunners and strode underneath the archway towards his apparent arch-rival.

The closer Djore got to Vikas, the more he realized that he was even more unlikable in person. He looked like a runty Elvis Presley, if Elvis was into heavy metal. Black leather everything, dotted with metal studs and golden jewellery, so much of it that Djore was surprised that he hadn’t collapsed under the weight of it all. He had a beaky nose on a wide face, and his pompadour was greased back with so much gel that Djore had to wonder whether he was using motor oil in it. Djore held back a gag as Vikas smiled the sleaziest smile Djore had ever seen as he approached the other man.

“So! This is the famous Djore Pemba, huh?” He slurred. He looked down his nose at Djore, eyeing him up. “I thought you’d be taller.” He sniffed. Djore raised an eyebrow.

“And I thought you’d have better taste in clothing.” Djore answered. Vikas curled his nose in irritation. He crossed his arms over his chest and puffed them out.

“All right, I see how it is. Now, we’re going to check you for weapons.” He motioned to his guys who moved forwards. Romulus and Remus spread their arms wide and allowed themselves to be frisked. Djore looked between each of them with pursed lips.

“And who are these fine gentleman?” He asked.

“My gunrunners, Karna and Will.”

“Really? They look more like common scavengers to me.” Djore quipped. This earned him a slightly rough pat down from who could only assume with Karna. The twins patted down the other men thoroughly. Remus brushed his hands liberally over Vikas’ jacket before pronouncing it clear. Romulus stepped back from Vikas and nodded to Djore. Vikas clapped his hands together and grinned.

“Great! Now we’ve got _that_ out of the way,” he smiled, placing his hands together, “We can talk about you getting out of my territory.” Now it was Djore’s turn to cross his arms over his chest.

“Oh? _Your_ territory? Last I checked, West Asia is my territory and you’re simply trying to bully your way in.” Djore stated. Vikas laughed, shaking his head as if talking to a rebellious child.

“Oh Djore… All that I want is what I am due. Besides, it’s kind of unfair of you to be taking up all the marks in this region. There is space for more than one black market you know? I didn’t even know that this was _your_ region!”

“West Asia is mine. You know that I am the only black market to actually deliver quality goods. I get first pick of prospecting customers.” Vikas chuckled.

“You’re too naive Djore! That’s not how things work in the world. Business like this isn’t a game of monopoly that you can win.”

“West Asia is mine.” Djore repeated. “You’ve been cutting into my supply lines and intimidating my suppliers into handing you their goods.”

“Whatever are you talking about?” Vikas sniffed. Djore placed his hands on his hips and snorted.

“I know it comes easily to you, but don’t play dumb Vikas.” Djore jabbed, narrowing his eyes. Vikas ground his teeth together and stepped forwards, putting his face in Djores.

“Quit flexing Djore. We both know that you couldn’t handle yourself in a real fight.”

“You don’t know that for sure though, do you?” Djore asked. Vikas narrowed his lidded eyes.

“You’re pretty confident in yourself aren’t you?” He asked. Djore nodded. He flinched as Vikas let out a sharp bark of laughter in Djore’s face. “Alright, listen here you little brat. A kid like you is nothing but a flea on my back. A cocky little shit like you can’t hold your own in this line of work. I mean, look at you! You dress like some sort of ADVENT preacher!” He said. Vikas walked backwards and threw his hands into the air.

“You’re a complete amateur! I bet you even came to this meeting expecting me to be ‘fair’ and ‘honest’!” Vikas looked back a Djore, an evil glint in his eyes. “And what if I told you that I had two snipers on the rooftops, with their sights set on you.” Vikas grinned, finishing the sentence with a flourish of his hand towards Djore. Romulus and Remus jolted, looking up at the roofs of the buildings surrounding the courtyard with wide eyes. Djore stared unmoving at the laughing con-man, face impassive. Lakshmi, who still stood in the shadows, gasped sharply and looked up at the buildings. She quickly grabbed onto a pipe next to her and began scaling the side of the building.

Vikas grinned wider still at Djore. “So what do you think?” He purred. Vikas knew he was about to win this round. A kid like Djore could never be prepared for something like this. But then Djore smiled, a sly close-lipped smile.

“Then I would say shoot me.” Djore said. All eyes were now on Djore. Vikas’ smile wavered.

“Uh… I don’t think that you–”

“Give the order!” Djore said, stepping closer to Vikas. “I can tell that’s what you’re going to do anyway, so why not end it now? Give the order to your men, go on!” He said. Vikas shrugged his shoulders and raised his hand. Romulus and Remus backed away, getting out of the line of fire.

“Fire!” Vikas cried. The gun cracked and with an anguished cry, Remus fell, clutching his side. Romulus ran to his brother’s side and cradled his body.

“Djore! Remus is—”

“So?” Djore said. His voice was deadpan and his face inscrutable. Vikas stared at Djore and raised his arm again, the left one this time.

“Fire!” Romulus flinched as he waited for the second bullet to hit home but… nothing ever came. One second, two seconds, three seconds. Silence was deathly in the air aside from Remus’ agonized moans. Vikas swallowed and shifted on his feet.

“What’s wrong Vikas? You look nervous.” He said. Vikas turned on Djore with a fury. There was no way, no way that this was happening. Djore smiled and brought his hand up to his chin, resting his fingers on it.

“The problem with hiring _human_ snipers is that they can be turned,” Djore turned his head up to the rooftops. “Isn’t that right, _Bhima_?” He called. Vikas jolted, suddenly tense and on edge. Djore looked back down at Vikas, smiling.

“Bhima and Sahil. Those are the snipers you were bragging about, no?” Vikas grit his teeth, breathing heavily.

“Why aren’t you firing? Think about what I offered you!” Vikas yelled. Djore’s laughter peeled through the air, bringing Vikas’ attention back to the young man. Djore smiled wide. Bhima had been easy to threaten into doing his bidding. Djore hadn’t reckoned on Sahil, but that’s why he had brought Lakshmi along. He knew that right now she was standing on top of the roof, holding Sahil in stasis until Djore could wrap up the meeting. Djore chuckled and shook his head mockingly.

“Oh Vikas. You really don’t get it do you? Money is a fallible guarantee when dealing with men like these. But _secrets_?” Djore purred. “Secrets hold far more weight than money! For example, Bhima has some rather… unorthodox interests that he would rather not have revealed. Isn’t that right?” Djore said. Vikas narrowed and he looked down at the ground. His shoulders sagging slightly.

Romulus looked back up from his brother at Djore, who still faced Vikas. “Djore! Remus is bleeding out!” He cried. Djore looked over at the twins, a sour curl on his lips.

“And what of it? This is his fault.” Djore said. Romulus stared wide eyed at his boss. Then at Vikas, as he began to chuckle under his breath. He looked back up at Djore, hand reaching into his jacket.

“Well-done for outplaying my snipers. But what about me?” He jeered. Vikas then pulled his hand from his jacket, and in it was a pistol. Romulus stared at the gun, and then down at Remus. Remus had searched Vikas! There was no way he could have missed the gun. Unless he didn’t…

“Oh no, Rem… You idiot!” He breathed. Djore sighed and turned to Romulus.

“Remus has always been lazy. I think you should have noticed him taking the long haul missions into the heart of Vikas’ territory Romulus. He became diligent as Vikas became arrogant.” Vikas shrugged non-chalantly as he pointed the gun to Djore’s chest.

“Remus was useful while he lasted. He got you here at least.” Vikas snarled. “Did you honestly think I was going to let you walk out of here alive?”

Djore smiled. Now this was predictable. Djore had been highly aware that Vikas was planning to kill Djore and take over the market for himself. Vikas didn’t seem to think that there would be any kind of backlash to the loss of Djore’s business. Djore stepped closer to Vikas, letting the nozzle of the pistol rest against his chest.

“Then do it.” Djore smiled. Vikas stared at Djore.

“What?”

“Kill me! I know you can do it.” Djore took the gun and pulled it up to his head. “I should warn you however… that if you do go through with it that there will be consequences. For starters, there will be messengers running from here to every ADVENT city center within range to tell them about how you’ve been swindling the system. You’ll be on every wanted list in the world.” Vikas laughed.

“I think I can handle that.” He said. Djore smiled at Vikas knowingly. Then, the silence of the courtyard was broken by a distant wailing. It grew louder and louder until everyone could distinguish it; a siren. An elimination siren.

“Residence Block C7, apartment 345.” Djore said. Vikas, who had been shuffling on his feet the whole time, went deathly still. Djore smiled. Got him. “That’s where your sister lives right? Sita, I think she’s called. Nice girl, and she has better taste in clothing than you do. Does ADVENT know that she’s working with the resistance yet?” He asked. Vikas began to tremble, he glanced at the sky, watching the red lights glare under the stars.

“You…”

“I would. If you kill me, my men will be running to the ADVENT officers faster than light tell them all about your precious baby sister.” Djore stated. Vikas stared at Djore. He had prepared for a young naïve and amateur kid, one who had no idea what they were doing, just like the rest of the people Vikas had killed to secure his power. But Djore Pemba… Vikas knew, as he stared into Djore’s obsidian gaze that he had been outmatched, and Djore knew that too. He smiled and removed the gun from Vikas’ hands.

“As a friend of mine once said, I like holding people’s lives in my hands.” Djore said, tossing the gun to the side. He stepped into Vikas’ personal space, grabbing the necklaces around his neck and pulling him down so he was face level with Djore. “It reminds us both of how powerless they really are.”

Djore released his hold on Vikas, revelling in how the man careened away from him.

“You’ll give me control of my regions back. And for good measure, you’ll also clue me into whatever intel system you’re using to intercept ADVENT supplies. You will keep to this, because I promise you that if you don’t that I have three friends who would be delighted to hunt you down and skin you alive. Capiche?” Djore said. Vikas nodded harshly, hair now visibly dishevelled. He quickly turned and ran out of the courtyard. His goons followed close behind and Djore took a deep breath.

Holy shit. That had actually worked. He had finally ran that rat down and won! He felt the jolt of the ground as Lakshmi landed behind him.

“What have you done? An innocent girl—”

“It was a bluff.” Djore interrupted. Lakshmi fell silent as Djore turned to her. “I heard the siren and I bluffed. The girl is safe. And Vikas won’t be able to get a good night sleep for some time." Djore turned to Remus and leaned down next to him. Romulus had stemmed the bleeding for now but needed to get him medical attention soon. Djore sighed and placed a hand on Remus’ head.

“I’m a nice person, so I’m giving you a second chance. Romulus will help keep you alive until you can get to a clinic. But if you ever betray me again, those same three friends of mine I mentioned will be the least of your problems. Okay?” Remus nodded weakly and Djore stood and made his way out of the courtyard. Lakshmi followed close behind. She sighed and shook her head.

“I have a hard time distinguishing between what is a bluff and what is true with you.” Lakshmi muttered. Djore slowed his pace and threw an arm around her waist, grinning.

“That’s just what makes me so exciting right?” He asked. Lakshmi snorted and pushed him away laughing. Djore sighed contentedly. He had vanquished a foe and gained new assets. The night couldn’t have gone any better!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wanted to flesh out djore some more  
> \- new characters! lakshmi will probably make more appearances  
> \- djore is taking advice from the hunter now and that's bad for everyone (flashback to chapter 2 wink-wonk)  
> \- if this chapter seems similair to the second chapter of Six of Crows that is because it is. Djore is partially inspired by Kaz after all


	6. Another Ally

The Himalayan mountains were the only place that ADVENT never really patrolled. It was too isolated and dangerous, and who in their right mind would want to scale the mountains anyway? That was one of the many reasons that Djore could move around as freely as he wanted. Djore smiled as he stared out of the window of the truck. The peaks of the mountains in the distance were layered with snow, and the narrow pass that Djore was currently driving on was bordered by trees that grew almost diagonally on the rocky walls. Lakshmi sat in the passenger’s seat, staring impassively out of the window at the passing landscape of rocky slopes.

Djore stifled a yawn as he rounded a corner. This was the fifth time in the span of two months that he had left the black market. Normally he didn’t leave the market for weeks and months at a time. The whole business with Vikas had messed up his supply lines in New India and West Asia. Djore was exhausted by the constant travel and negotiations that he had had to work out.

Lakshmi turned towards Djore, brows furrowed. “Djore? Should we stop and take a moment to rest?” She asked. Djore sighed and leaned back against the seat.

“Yeah… I guess.” He sighed. Djore pulled over, parking the car next to a dense outcropping of trees. The pine forest stretched into the distance, down into a small valley. Djore was happy to be out of the hot river deltas of India. The cool mountain air helped him breath, and the pressure on his head was lifted. One of Djore’s issues with heading down the mountain were the headaches he got from the change in air pressure. Then, when he came back up the mountains, he became sleepy! Djore might as well just stay up at the market for the rest of his life.

Djore stepped out of the truck, stretching his arms and legs. Lakshmi came around the side of the truck, a bottle of water in each hand. She handed one to Djore, and leaned against the truck.

Djore popped the cap of his bottle and drank long and deep. Apparently he had been thirsty. He wiped his mouth and sat down on the dry, pine needle covered ground. Lakshmi smiled and sat down next to Djore.

“You look tired. Should I drive the rest of the way up?” She asked.

“Mmm… Sure. At least you don’t need to sleep as much as I do.” Djore mumbled, resting his head in his hands.

“If I could sleep as much as you humans do, then I would.” Lakshmi chuckled. Djore laughed quietly, taking another drink of water.

“Once you decide to finally leave ADVENT for good, I’ll buy you a bed.” Djore said.

“King sized?”

“Eh… maybe queen sized. King sized is too expensive.” He bargained. Lakshmi laughed and finally sat down next to Djore.

“Good enough for me. You’ve always been a cheap with furniture.” She said. The two rested against the vehicle, slowly finishing their bottles of water. The sun was truly starting to set now and temperature was slowly declining. Djore could feel the familiar chill of the mountain air creeping in on him. He looked over at Lakshmi. She looked unaffected by the cold, resting against the truck. Her eyes were closed and her breathing was level and calm. Djore stood slowly, trying not to disturb her sleep. He carefully rounded the car and fetched his scarf. Djore supposed it was more of a cloak, and he usually wore it as such, letting the hood cover his face. But it was warm and comfortable and that’s all that mattered.

The forest was quiet and the air was still. Djore smiled and breathed in deeply, filling his lungs with mountain air. Djore was tempted to lie down next to Lakshmi and try to get some rest, but even in the dense mountains of Tibet, there were still dangerous things. Snow leopards, bears, aliens… someone needed to keep watch. Djore looked back at the forest, eyes scanning the leafy border of the trees.

The forest was quiet… that wasn’t normal. Now that Djore was really paying attention, he realized that the silence in the trees was unnatural. Normally he would be able to hear the buzz of cicadas and the movement of animals through bushes. Now it was silent.

Djore narrowed his eyes and turned towards Lakshmi, to try and wake her up. Djore didn’t have to though, as Lakshmi’s eyes were wide open, staring into the forest.

“Lakshmi? Do you also feel that?” Djore asked. Lakshmi nodded and stood up, towering above Djore.

“Something is in the forest. There’s a… psionic signature. It’s erratic but it’s there.” She whispered. Djore nodded, opening the door to the truck.

“I’ll start the truck ok?” He said. Lakshmi gave no response and Djore turned around to see her making her way to the treeline. “Lakshmi! What are you doing?” He hissed. The priest waved her hand at him, as if to silence him.

“Well I’m not going in there!” Djore said. Lakshmi turned around and shrugged her arms.

“Ok.”

“Ok? You can’t just leave me out here; you’re supposed to protect me!” Djore said. But Lakshmi was already gone, moving through the trees at a quick and deliberate pace. Djore hesitated. The mountain road was quiet, and being alone in the truck didn’t seem like such a bad idea. Djore had almost accepted his fate, until the sound of a creature roaring in the distance sent him scampering to join Lakshmi.

The priest hadn’t gotten too far into the woods yet. Djore caught up to her, grabbing onto her arm. Lakshmi looked around the forest, eyes narrowed. She could make out the trail of purple and orange psionics weaving through the trees. Like someone was panicking and running, unsure of where to go and terrified of what might happen to them.

“They’re scared.” She said, tugging Djore along with her.

“Oh boo-hoo, how _terrible_ for it. Now can we _please_ go back to the truck?” He asked, whispering the question. He was almost nervous to speak to loudly, in case they would attract the attention of whatever was out there. Lakshmi looked down at Djore, giving him a hard stare.

“Whoever is out there is hurt and scared. I’m going to help them.” Lakshmi said, marching off in the direction of the psionic signature. Djore sighed heavily and joined her, treading softly. The forest was getting darker with the approach of the evening and now Djore found it difficult to see more than a few meters in front of him. He was following Lakshmi closely, who had no problem seeing in the dark. Djore hated being in forests almost as much as being in cities, though that was a fear that had been indoctrinated into him by his grandfather. There could be anything hiding behind the trees, in crevices and gaps in the rocks and the ground.

Djore bit his lip and stopped by a tree. He looked down and sighed. His laces had come undone while they had been walking. He quickly kneeled down to tie them. He could hear Lakshmi walking away into the distance. Hopefully she wouldn’t go too far without him. Djore hated the idea of being left alone in the woods. He quickly finished up the laces with a double knot and stood, brushing off his cloak and looked up.

Djore’s breath hitched in his throat. There was something standing in front of him. It was hidden just behind a tree, hands curled around the trunk of it. Tall, glowing, and otherworldly. Its body was a beautiful sunset orange colour, lighter near its chest. But it’s face… or what could be considered a face, was haunting. A black vortex spiraling up into the air, with two red dots where the eyes of a human should be. But the thing seemed dimmer than it should be, like a flashlight running out of batteries.

“Uh… hi.” Djore croaked. The thing’s body seemed to glitch for a moment, before coming back into focus. The thing stood stock still, like a statue. Djore stood taller, keeping his hands near his side. He had no idea what this thing was, or how he was going to escape unscathed. “So… How has… your day been?” He asked, trying to go for a casual approach. The thing’s body flickered, and it shifted, moving back slightly. That was the first movement it had made, but Djore felt like it wasn’t reacting to his question.

Djore turned to see Lakshmi, wide and eyed and still, staring at the creature. She looked over at Djore, and her hand began to move to her psi-amp. The creature began to glow more brightly and it took another step back. Djore could tell, somehow, that is getting ready to attack them. He had to work quickly.

“Don’t worry! My friend is not going to do anything to you, _right_?” Djore said, facing Lakshmi, trying to communicate to her that she shouldn’t do anything. She must have understood, because she lowered her hand and nodded.

The creature, made a chirping sound, then the air was filled with white noise. Djore flinched at the sudden rise in volume. The white noise began to fluctuate, like it was flicking through radio channels.

“ _Please-Don’t-Hurt._ ” Djore stared at the creature. Three different words, spoken by three different people, all via radio frequencies. The thing was communicating with them! Djore nodded and raised his hands as a supplicating gesture.

“We won’t hurt you. I promise.” Djore said. The creature seemed to relax, and stopped moving backwards. The creature raised an arm and pointed past Djore and Lakshmi, into the distance.

“ _Vehicle-Power?_ ” It asked. Djore nodded.

“Uh, yeah. Do you want to go there?” He asked. The creature moved forwards, walking, or flickering, quickly past Djore and Lakshmi. Djore wasted no time in following the creature and Lakshmi, with no choice, followed suit. The creature flitted through the trees, walking so quickly that Djore almost couldn’t keep up. He sidled up to Lakshmi, who was keeping pace beside him.

“What is that?” Djore whispered. Lakshmi wrapped an arm around Djore’s shoulders, pulling him closer so she could whisper in his ear.

“A codex. They normally never leave the city centers. They’re not programmed to, and more to the point…” She whispered, gesturing to the codex floating in front of them. “They’re not programmed to be able to _think._ ” Djore looked at the codex. So, if that was the case, then what was it doing out here?

Once they got to the truck, it was dark, and stars were beginning to appear in the sky. The codex was now a glowing orange figure in the darkness. Djore opened up the back of the truck, gesturing to the codex to enter. It clambered in, rather inelegantly, and started rummaging through the crates. Djore watched as it searched around, before finally settling on a crate in the back. It pried open the top and pulled out an elirium battery. The codex placed its hand on the battery, and with a fizzle, began to drain it of its power.

Djore walked back over to Lakshmi, letting the codex do its own thing with the batteries. Lakshmi was standing some meters away, staring at the truck. Djore made his over to her, and leant against a tree.

“What do you think?” He asked. Lakshmi shrugged and shook her head, sighing.

“I don’t know. It is not behaving like any codex I’ve ever seen.” She said.

“What are they supposed to behave like?” Djore asked. Lakshmi tilted her head from side to side, in that way that she did when she was trying to explain something complex to Djore.

“Codex’s are physical manifestations of the ADVENT network. They’re entire existence is to maintain and protect the network against foreign contaminants; locate breaches, keeping track of ADVENT troopers, reporting missing network chips, that kind of stuff. They don’t actually have any individual personalities.” She explained.

“So it’s like a hive mind. They all think and act the same for a greater goal.” Djore said. Lakshmi nodded.

“Yes. But this codex… it has personality. Emotions. It was scared when we first saw it, but now it’s just nervous. And grateful.” Lakshmi shook her head and crossed her arms over her chest. “I don’t understand what its doing.” Djore was quiet for a few seconds, before he turned to Lakshmi with a strange glint in his eyes.

“What if it defected?” Djore asked. Lakshmi stared at him.

“What? That’s—“

“Impossible. I know. But, you defected, didn’t you? So did the rest of the Skirmishers. And that was also supposed to be impossible.” Djore said. Lakshmi was quiet afterwards. She looked over at the truck, and wondered to herself whether it truly was possible for a codex of all things to defect.

Finally, the codex emerged from the truck, glowing more brightly, with more spring in its step than before. It made its way over to Djore and Lakshmi, almost floating over the ground. Its body flickered less now and Djore could see it was androgynous.

“ _Thank you._ ” It said. Djore thought he could detect genuine gratitude in the recording that the codex chose to use.

“No problem.” Djore said, walking towards the codex. “My name is Djore. This is Lakshmi, my friend.” He said, introducing himself. The codex buzzed for a moment, as if considering whether or not to tell them its name. Lakshmi knew what Djore was doing. If they could get the codex’s name then Lakshmi could look it up on the network.

The codex was silent for a moment more before it spoke up. “ _Mer-e-lin_.” It said. Djore took a moment to decipher the jumple of letters.

“Merlin? Oh! Like the wizard.” Djore exclaimed, snapping his fingers. The codex tilted its head in and made a quizzical beeping noise. He looked over at Lakshmi, motioning to the codex. “From King Arthur?”

“I have no idea who that is.” Lakshmi said. Djore watched as Lakshmi’s eyes suddenly lost focus, flicking across the air as if reading invisible equations. She was accesses the Network, trying to discover who this mysterious codex was. Djore turned back to the codex, who was watching him curiously.

“So, Merlin, why are you out here? If you don’t mind me asking of course.” Djore asked. The codex flickered uncertainly. It was unsure whether it should reveal its reason for being out in the woods. It shook its head and pointed to itself.

“ _Not-good._ ” It said. Djore frowned and looked the codex up and down.

“Why? Because you aren’t in the city center?” He asked. Merlin’s shoulders slumped. Evidently Djore had struck a nerve with the codex and he looked over at Lakshmi, who was still standing with her eyes open, looking through the network. “Do you have anything?” Lakshmi was still for a moment, before she blinked her big orange eyes and nodded.

“I do.” She said. She looked over at the codex, worried. “Is it alright if I tell Djore about you?” Merlin made no movement, just stayed in place. Lakshmi nodded and looked over at her friend.

“Merlin was supposed to be a network administrator…” She trailed off, eyes flickering uncertainly from Djore to the codex. “But they began to, to glitch. He gained autonomous thought after the officer he was assigned to was… breached. I am not sure what that means, but it scrambled his connection to the Network.”

Merlin place his head in his hands and made a distressed beeping sound. Djore couldn’t really sympathize with the codex and what he was going through but the poor thing looked so pitiful and lost. Djore got the same feeling from the codex as he had from his cat, who he had found and rescued. Djore ran the information that Lakshmi had just given him through his head again. A codex that had been severed from the Network, unable to return to ADVENT. Djore walked over to Merlin, getting its attention with a wave of his hand.

“Merlin… do you actually want to go back to ADVENT?” He asked. Merlin froze, seemingly in deep thought for a moment.

“… _No-I-Do-Not._ ” It mused. Djore looked back at Lakshmi, raising an eyebrow. Lakshmi was stunned. A codex who had lost its loyalty to ADVENT? Lakshmi thought she would never see the day that that would happen, yet here Merlin was. Djore smiled and a brilliant idea began forming in his head.

“And what if I were to tell you that I’m trying to set up my own Network?” He asked. Merlin’s head snapped up. Lakshmi stared at Djore and placed her hands on her hips.

"If what I think is happening, is _happening_ ," Lakshmi asked, eyes narrowing. "It _better_ _not_ _be_." Djore smirked, ignoring her comment.

"So, if I were to ask you to become, I don't know... the main-server proxy? What would you say?" Djore asked.

"Djore!" Lakshmi exclaimed, throwing her hands up. Djore kept on looking at the codex, waiting patiently for its answer. The codex flickered, deliberating with itself, weighing the pros and cons of joining this reckless and intelligent young man. Merlin knew that Djore's offering of salvation and purpose had a purpose besides simply helping the codex. He wanted to get something out of this. But where could the codex go? Certainly not back to ADVENT. Merlin thought for a moment longer...

The codex floating over to Djore and nodded it's head. " _I-Will-Join-You._ " Djore's smile widened and he clapped his hands together. Behind him, Lakshmi stared at the codex in disbelief, before sighing and shaking her head. Lakshmi supposed that if he could get her to work with him, then a codex wasn't so strange either.

"Perfect! Then let's head back up to the market and get you set up." Djore said, guiding the codex towards the truck.

The duo-turned-trio bundled into the car, letting Djore sit in between them. Djore held back a grin for the rest of the trip back to the market. His joy at this development was immense. His very own codex, who knew the ins and outs of the ADVENT Network like no other! Djore was running the consequences of having a codex through his mind, unable to find any significant downside to it. Djore had always been ambitious but this was taking it to a whole other level. He felt the inklings of a new idea, a new project bubble up inside his head. An idea so crazy, so ambitious and daring, that it might just _work_. Djore had a priest, and now a codex; the two pillars of ADVENT's new society, by his side. If he used the right amount of force here, the correct words there, if he played his cards right...

Djore yawned and let his eyes fall closed. He would work out the kinks of his new plan in the morning.

 


	7. A Fight to the... Well Not the Death but Until Someone is Injured

Djore didn’t know what to expect when he opened the double doors to the sparring ring. In hindsight, he should have expected something like what he was seeing now.

When he had realized that there was no one in the main hall of the market, Djore had become instantly suspicious. After all, it was the monthly XCOM visit and _also_ intel-collection-day, which meant that the Chosen were here as well. The only problem was that Djore saw no one. It was quiet, and quiet generally meant trouble was afoot.

Djore had turned to Merlin, his codex, who was sitting in the corner of the room, absorbing data from a new intel package.

“Merlin, can you go check on the guests? I have suspicions,” Djore asked. Merlin’s red, beady eyes blinked for a moment before he stood. Merlin floated off into the distance to find the soldiers and aliens, leaving Djore alone with his cat, Chairman Meow.

The overly fluffy cat was perched on top of the table, basking in a thin stream of sunlight that shone through a small window. Djore had been admiring just how gosh-darn cute he was when Merlin rushed back into the room, hands flapping desperately. For a moment Djore just stared at Merlin, trying to figure out what he wanted. The codex pointed desperately to the back of the building and made a punching motion with his fist.

Djore knew, in that moment, that something was going down. He jumped up and rushed towards the codex, who guided him through the halls until they reached the double doors of the sparring ring. As Djore got closer, he could hear to cheers and yells of the XCOM soldiers. Djore swung the doors open, stepped out into the fresh mountain air and proceeded to gawk at the sight of a full fight between Neylor and Jane Kelly.

The alien and human were circling around, eyeing each other down, daring them to make the first move. Djore could feel a blood vessel in his head about to burst.

Djore had made it very, _very_ , clear that the Chosen and XCOM soldiers were banned from fighting within the market and yet here they were, fighting!

Jane threw a fierce punch at the Warlock’s stomach, her fist connecting with a loud thunk and a grunt. Neylor was, surprisingly, actually stunned by the blow. Another quickly followed and as the Warlock stumbled, Jane grabbed his arm in an attempt to throw the massive alien over her shoulder. Neylor quickly got over his shock and grabbed Jane’s arm. With the ease that befitted a creature of his size, he tossed Jane away like a ragdoll. The ranger tumbled over the ground landing at Djore’s feet.

Jane grunted and blinked as she opened her eyes and stared at Djore. “Oh. Hey man, how’s it going?” She asked. Djore placed both hands on his hips and glared down at Jane.

“What in the name of Buddha is happening here on this day?” He asked. Jane waved her hand nonchalantly.

“We’re just sparring with each other! Don’t worry about it,” Jane said, sitting up and rubbing her shoulders. She looked over at Michael, who was standing just a few meters away, fretting over his partner. “Mary? Tag out for me will you,” She said. Mary jumped up from where she had been sitting and saluted her friend.

“Sure!” She said. She turned her attention to the Warlock, pointing a finger at him. “Alright big boy! Get ready to wrassle!” She called, making her way into the ring. Michael came up to Jane and began to fuss over her, checking for scrapes and scratches. Djore looked across the ring to see the other Chosen.

Tessura was thoroughly disinterested in the event and was quietly meditating under the pagoda. Khomain was tinkering with his grappling hook, cleaning the components meticulously. Djore watched as he casually glanced up at the fight in front of him, grinning as he watched Mary dodge a strike from his brother.

Djore looked back down at Jane and glared. “Care to explain yourself?” Djore asked. Jane nodded and stood up, carefully nursing her shoulder.

“It was Michael’s idea,” Jane said. Djore looked over Michael incredulously.

“Seriously?” Djore asked. Michael sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck, a slight smile on his lips.

“I thought it would be good to get rid of some of the tension between us. I mean, this is the _sparring_ _ring_. Technically this is allowed,” Michael explained. Djore narrowed his eyes. He had half a mind to tell everyone to get out of his house for breaking the rules… But Michael was correct. Djore had never said anything about the sparring ring being off limits.

“Alright, I’ll allow this. So long as it’s actual sparring and you don’t try and rip each other’s throats out, I am willing to let this go,” Djore said, staring pointedly at the medic. Michael and Jane nodded in sync.

Djore turned his attention back to the match between Mary and Neylor. The sniper had wrapped herself around his back and was trying, unsuccessfully, to take him out with a stranglehold. Neylor looked thoroughly unimpressed, though he was starting to turn slightly bluer than normal. He reached behind his back and grabbed Mary, flinging her over his head. Mary landed on the ground with a surprised yelp and a groan of pain. The patted the ground three times.

“I give up. I literally can’t,” She cried. Neylor smiled a smug grin and turned to the remaining soldiers.

“So, do you forfeit this ridiculous contest?” He asked. None of the soldiers seemed to keen on entering the ring with the Warlock, shifting uncomfortably in their seats. Nicoletta shrugged when Amy looked at her, expectant. Mox and Dragunova made no attempts to move either. The Warlock’s smile widened and he crossed his arms over his puffed out chest. “Well then, I suppose that I win,” He boasted.

From the ground Mary raised her arm to the sky, finger pointed straight up. “Wait just a moment, _Ney_ - _bore_!” She said. The Warlock turned towards the sniper and glared at her.

“What did you just call me?” He asked. Mary, ignoring his question, stood painfully.

“We have one more trump card up our sleeve,” Mary said. She then turned to the crowd of soldiers, grinning wide. “Michael! Take this guy _out_!” She called.

Michael stared at Mary, then Neylor, and back again. “Do I have to?” He asked. Mary nodded her head vigourously. The medic sighed and began making his way onto the field, rolling up the sleeves of his shirt. “Ok, but I don’t like it,” He admitted, brushing a hand through his hair. Mary grinned and clapped her hands. She made her way back to the crowd, cackling like a goblin.

Djore looked over at Mary, who had sat down on the ground, hands rubbing together. Then he noticed that all the soldiers seemed suddenly giddy. Jane looked like she was trying to hide her smile.

“Why are you all smiling?” He asked, suspicious of the sudden glee of the group. Jane leaned over to Djore, voice lowered so that Neylor couldn’t hear.

“Michael is the best hand-to-hand fighter we have. Dude once wrestled a _muton_.” Jane whispered. “And he, mostly, won. Besides, the Warlock isn’t even that good at this. He’s just bigger than us. Michael _will_ win,”

Djore looked back over at Michael, who was now stretching his shoulders. Neylor tapped his foot on the ground impatiently.

“Are you quite ready? I would like to get this over with.” He sneered. Michael took a deep, slow breath, eyes closed and arms relaxed by his sides. He then nodded, raising his arms.

“I’m ready.” Michael said. Neylor wasted no time in trying to finish the match. He broke into a sprint, fully intending to ram straight into Michael. But Michael was faster, and the medic raised his arms as Neylor got close.

Michael hooked them both around one of the Warlock’s arms, and using the aliens own momentum, flung Neylor over his shoulder and onto the ground. A deafening silence followed for a few seconds. Michael jumped back, out of reach of the alien. Then the XCOM soldiers burst out into a rapturous cry of joy. On the other side of the field, the other Chosen looked genuinely surprised. Djore’s was also astonished by this turn of events, eyes wide and eyebrows raised. He leaned over to Merlin, pointing at the fight.

“Start recording please,” He said. Merlin nodded and turned to stare at the sparring ring, eyes dilating lightly as he prepared to record.

Neylor snarled in discontent and rose up from the ground, glaring daggers into Michael. The medic, obviously getting into the spirit of the fight raised his fists and, perhaps recklessly, taunted Neylor. He made a come-here motion with his hand and smiled. Neylor advanced quickly, lashing out with a fist, aiming for Michael’s head. He quickly dodged the strike, ducking out of the way, before lashing out with his fist. He caught the Warlock in the chin, sending his head upwards. Neylor grabbed his chin, distracted by the force of the punch for just long enough for Michael to charge into him knocking him to the ground. Neylor, in an attempt to stay upright, pivoted on one foot. He ended up falling flat on his face and Michael took to opportunity to grapple Neylor’s arms behind his back, placing a knee into his spine. Mary jumped forwards, lying almost flat on the ground to get a better look.

“One, two, three… Out! Michael wins the round baby!” She cried. The soldiers cheered thunderously, jumping up and down in glee. Michael released his hold on Neylor and grinned, wiping a sheen of sweat from his brow. He jogged over to his friends, who piled on top of him in a group hug to end all group hugs.

Jane turned to the Chosen and pointed a finger at them mockingly. “Ha! What d’ya think of that suckers!?” She laughed. Neylor pushed himself up off of the ground and glared at the soldiers, teeth bared. However, his pride had been crushed too much and he stomped back over to his siblings.

The Assassin gave her brother a withering look, obviously disappointed with how he let himself lose. The Hunter was overjoyed by his brother’s loss. Djore watched from a distance as Khomain grinned and said something that only the Warlock could hear. Neylor’s face dropped and he slammed a fist onto the top of his brother’s head.

Djore turned to Michael, who was currently being given a lung-crushing bear hug by Flynn.

“Well, I have to say that that was unexpected. Where did you learn to do that?” He asked. Michael laughed and pried himself out of Flynn’s arms.

“My mom taught me the basic stuff when I was seven. I taught myself the rest, so I guess you could say that it’s my own brand of wrestling.” Michael explained. Jane grinned, flinging an arm around Michael’s waist.

“See! I told you he would win,” Jane said. Djore didn’t think he had ever seen the soldiers as happy as they were now. Djore would have to let them spar with the Chosen more often.

Flynn turned to the Chosen and spread his arms, challenging them. “So? Who’s next then? Or are you just too scared to fight us?” Flynn asked, laughing. The other soldiers jeered at the Chosen, making faces and rude chicken sounds in their direction.

The clamour died down slightly as Khomain stood, stretching his arms above his head. He made his way out onto the field and Djore felt the tension in the air suddenly shift. Several soldiers actually took a step backwards, away from the Hunter.

Flynn, backed off slightly, raising his hands in front of his face. “Woah, ok. Didn’t actually mean it.” He laughed nervously.

“Well, this is what happens when you challenge people. You don’t necessarily have mean it,” Khomain said. Flynn, who had practically melted back into the crowd, was quickly replaced by Mary as chief troublemaker.

“Alright then. You do you want to fight? I’m guessing Dragunova?” Mary said. The Hunter scoffed and waved his hand dismissively.

“Dragunova? Pff, no! She’s _boring_ now. I know all of her moves; the match would be over before it begins.” Khomain said. Elena sat up straight and crossed her arms, weakly protesting the insult. The Hunter shook his head, smiling pleasantly. “No. I want to fight him.” He said, nodding his head towards.

“ _Michael_?” Djore asked. He thought about it for a moment. “Well I suppose that makes sense. You do hate each other…”

“No way,” Jane said, placing herself next to the medic. “You’d actually hurt him. Or _worse_.” She growled. Khomain laughed lightly, as if Jane had just told a mediocre joke.

“No I wouldn’t. Why would I risk being kicked out of the market like that?” He asked. Jane couldn’t argue with that logic. She placed a hand on Michael’s arm.

“You can say no. Let Nicoletta do it instead,” Jane said. Michael was glaring at the Hunter, eyes narrowed. Jane looked up at him and seemed to recognize what was going through his head. “No. Don’t do it. I swear to god dude.” Jane warned, pointing a finger at her partner. Khomain just waited patiently, gazing nonchalantly at the medic. Michael finally looked over at Djore, mind made up.

“Do you have sport tape?” He asked. Jane threw up her arms in frustration. The rest of soldiers cheered. Djore could tell they had been waiting a long time for someone to punch Khomain in his _stupid smug face_. Djore frowned at his own thoughts. He also, apparently, had been waiting for this day.

* * *

 

The suspense in the air was unbearable as everyone waited for the fight to start. Djore had managed to find a roll of sports tape and was watching Michael apply it to his hands. Michael was slowly and calmly wrapping the tape around his knuckles as Jane berated him for his choices. Flynn and Mary were standing there with her, however they were far more excited than Michael for this fight. Flynn stood behind Michael, hands rested on his shoudlers.

“You got this dude, you’re the best, you’re the _man_! Eye of the tiger!” He Flynn encouraged. Jane waved him away angrily.

“Don’t encourage him! This is the _Hunter_ we’re talking about,” She hissed, glancing at the other side of the field. Khomain was busy stripping off his armour, chatting excitedly with his siblings. He claimed that he wanted it to be a fair fight, and for once Djore believed him. Mary shrugged slightly, seemingly slightly more worried than Flynn was, though that wasn’t a good measurement.

“If Michael wins then this will be the best thing that has, like, _ever_ happened to us. But the chances of that happening are,” Mary quickly put her finger and thumb together, “this likely.” Flynn looked over at Mary’s fingers, putting his face very close to them.

“Mary, your fingers are touching.” Flynn said. Mary made a face at Flynn. Flynn sighed and ran his hands through his hair. “I guess you’re right. I mean that guy almost killed me once. I don’t even know if our boy can take him,” Flynn conceded.

Michael finished tying the final knot on his tape and looked up at his friends. “The Hunter isn’t some invincible demon. He’s a regular demon, and _he can be defeated_ ,” Michael said, pointing at his friends in turn. “I just need to punch him in the face hard enough.” Elena, who was sat behind Michael made a face, grimacing at Michael’s confidence. Jane placed her hands on her hips and looked back and forth between her friend and the alien he was going to fight.

Djore sighed and placed a hand on Jane’s shoulder. “Look, they’re going to fight, no matter what. If it makes you feel better, I’ll referee the match for you. Ok?” He said. Jane didn’t look convinced. But she had no choice. Jane sighed deeply, nodded, and went back over to the seat to join the group of soldiers. Djore marched out into the middle of the ring and raised his arms.

“Alright! I want a nice, fair fight ok? Well, maybe not fair… like seventy percent fair. Got it?” Djore said. Michael nodded and stood, making his way into the centre of ring. Khomain entered next, removing his hood, and Djore, along with most of the soldiers, almost lost his _goddamn_ mind.

“You have _hair?_ ” Djore exclaimed, asking the question everyone was thinking. Khomain stopped for a moment, to give Djore a quizzical look. He ran his hand through the short white hair on his head, confused.

“Of course I do! You didn’t think I was _bald,_ did you?” He asked. Djore raised his hand, trying to think of an appropriate, non-insulting answer. Maybe he could say that it looked nice, which it did! Khomain raised a hand to stop him. “Don’t even try,” He said. Djore nodded and stepped back, letting the human and alien walk towards each other.

“Ok, when I give the signal the fight starts,” Djore said, stepping back some more. He did not want to be caught in the crossfire during this one. Khomain looked down at Michael and smirked confidently.

“I predict that in exactly thirty-seven seconds from when this match begins that I’ll have memorized your fighting style. Then you’ll last _maybe_ another ten before you lose. Does that sound about right?” He asked. Michael narrowed his eyes, though the rest of his face remained impassive.

“Don’t count your _gross, fish babies_ before they’ve hatched, Hunter.” Michael said. A loud ‘ _oooh’_ went up from the XCOM soldiers. One of them hand brought a bag of roasted chestnuts, which they were sharing among themselves like the popcorn found at ADVENT theatres. Khomain glared distastefully at the soldiers.

Djore placed his hands on hips, frowning deeply at the two. “Are you two done?” He asked. Khomain gave Djore a thumbs up, and Michael nodded. “Ok. Three, two, one…” Djore said. He watched Michael tense up, shifting one foot backwards.

“Fight!” Djore shouted. Khomain jumped forwards, expecting Michael to take a step back. Instead, Michael also jumped forwards, under the Hunter’s grasp and jammed his elbow at full-force into the alien’s kidney. Khomain stumbled for just a moment, before immediately spinning around to strike. The main difference between Neylor and Khomain is that Khomain was ten times faster. His fist caught Michael in the face. He stumbled back, shocked by the impact of the punch. Djore flinched. The Chosen were much stronger than humans, so even though the blow looked soft to Djore, it must have felt horrible to Michael.

Khomain, instead of taking advantage of how stunned Michael was, moved away from the medic. Djore knew what he was doing. The Hunter wanted to analyse Michael’s fighting style and was biding his time. Michael recovered, shaking the stars out of his eyes. This time he did move back, enough so that there was a sizeable gap between the two. There was a tense moment of silence as nothing happened. The soldiers, who had been cheering and booing, now held their breath. Djore could see Jane’s eyes were wide with worry.

"Something the matter Michael?" Khomain asked. Michael said nothing, just kept his eyes on the Hunter, watching his every move. "Feeling nervous?" He asked. Michael still said nothing, ignoring Khomain's attempts at banter.

Khomain sighed dramatically and placed his hands on hips, giving Michael a withering, though still teasing, look. “Really Michael? Nothing? I expected more from you!” He said mockingly. Michael narrowed his eyes and lowered his hands.

“I know what you’re doing.” Michael said.

“Oh?”

“And I’m not going to give you the satisfaction. Either you get over here or this match is done.” Michael demanded. Khomain narrowed his eyes, and for a second he looked angry. He finally forced a smile.

“Alright.” He said. Khomain moved quickly, more quickly than Djore was comfortable with. Mary let out a yelp as Khomain grabbed Michael by the arm and threw him over his shoulder, onto the ground with a terrifying crack. But Michael wasted no time, swiping the Hunter’s legs out from under him. He fell quickly, hitting the ground hard, and had no time to react as Michael kicked him in the head, hard, and got up.

Michael stumbled, holding a hand to the back of his skull. It came away red. Jane shouted and pointed at the wound, to which the other soldiers jumped up. Michael raised his hands towards them.

“I’m fine!” He shouted. He turned to Djore, glaring with wild eyes. “Don’t. Stop. The match.” He demanded. Djore looked over at Jane, who was pleading with her eyes.

Djore had no time to react as the Hunter sprang up, lashing out at the medic, and they both tumbled to the ground. For a few moments it was a tangle of fists and feet, the sound of punches being thrown was painful to listen to. The soldiers shouted over each other, some pleading Djore to stop them, others encouraging Michael further. Even the Chosen were paying attention now, staring intently at the fight.

Finally, Michael kicked his opponent in the stomach and over his head. Khomain landed with a painful sounding snap on his neck and flopped to the ground. Michael lay on the ground for a few seconds longer, breathing heavily. He finally stood, pushing himself up onto his feet. He stared at the Hunter, who was still lying on the ground. Finally, he sat up. Khomain grabbed his neck and cracked it. He stood and turned to face Michael.

"Yo', did he just break his neck? And then put it _back_?" Flynn shouted. The Hunter laughed, confirming Flynn's comment. The soldiers immediately burst out in disgusted noises. Djore's stomach turned at the thought. Michael paled, but didn't look all that surprised at what had just happened.

Khomain moved forwards, lashing out with a closed fist. Michael dodged it, barely. The grazing blow still managed to set Michael of balance, and the Hunter struck again, this time throwing Michael to the ground. Michael had one hand free however, and he used it to jab two fingers into Khomain's eyes. The Hunter lurched backwards in time not to be blinded completely, letting Michael go. Michael sprang up and pushed the Hunter away, placing more distance between each other.

The two glared daggers into each other. Now it was getting serious. Djore knew he had to stop the match. He turned to Merlin, who had remained in place, recording everything.

“Make a loud noise! Quick!” He hissed. Merlin made beeping noises as he tried to find a suitably loud noise. Djore turned back in time to see Michael launch his fist into Khomain’s jaw. He retaliated by grabbing Michael and jamming his knee forcefully into the medic’s stomach. Michael gasped in pain, but wasn’t deterred. He grabbed Khomain and flipped him over his shoulder, rolling with him so he could wrap his arm around the alien’s neck, choking him. Khomain broke out easily and flipped Michael onto the ground, grinding his knee into the human’s spine, between his shoulders. Michael actually cried out in pain now. This had to end, quickly.

Finally, Merlin came through and pierced the air with the loudest foghorn noise that Djore had ever heard. Djore clapped his hands over his ears, as did everyone else. The Assassin jumped away from the noise, clutching her head. Djore looked over at Merlin, who gave him a thumbs up.

“ _Thank you_ , Merlin. Next time, pick something _quieter_ than that.” Djore drawled. He turned his attention towards the ring and found it already packed with people, all fawning over their medic. He stood up slowly, carefully reassuring them that he was ok. Mary had found a large role of bandages and was applying them to Michael’s head. Djore could now see the newly forming bruises on Michael’s face and arms.

Khomain, who had been pushed away in all the commotion, was sitting on the ground, watching the soldiers and trying to get his bearings. But he was genuinely smiling, and there was a wild, exhilarated look in his eyes. It wasn’t a good look on him, Djore thought. The Hunter stood, massaging his neck.

“That was fun! We should do it again.” He said. All of the soldiers turned in sync to glare at the alien. Michael frowned at the Hunter for a few seconds, before a small grin split his face.

“I’d be happy to beat you up as many times as you want, you overgrown _raisin_ ,” He said. Jane punched Michael in the arm, eliciting a yelp of pain from the medic. The rest of the soldiers laughed and jeered at the Hunter as strolled back over to his siblings. The Warlock knocked him over the top of the head again and began berating him. The Assassin joined him this time, telling him how idiotic that was.

Djore turned to Merlin, who was standing with his hands on his hips, copying Djore. “Stop that!” Djore laughed. Merlin buzzed happily, placing his hands by his side again. “Did you get everything?” Djore asked. Merlin nodded happily.

“ _In-Data Pad-?_ ” He asked. Djore nodded and the codex floated away. Djore scratched his head and sighed in relief. This is mess hadn’t ended as horribly as it could have he supposed. And the soldiers were beyond happy. They considered Michael’s fight a victory and were celebrating with a bottle of cheap moonshine they had brought from the Avenger. Djore watched contentedly as the group laughed amongst each other, already pantomiming the events of the fight. Djore felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up to find Tessura leaning over him. She frowned at Djore, arms crossed.

“I hope that this does not become a regular occurance.” She muttered, glaring at her brother and XCOM in turn. Djore shrugged.

“Well, they seem to enjoy it. Maybe you will too if you ever give it a go.” He said. Tessura sighed and shook her head. Djore let her make her way to the double doors.

Despite the intense injuries that had occurred during this crazy fight, Djore saw the positive impact it had on the atmosphere. Though maybe he should install a system to make it easier to stop fights. Maybe a gong, like a martial arts tournament. Djore laughed to himself, and made his way over to the soldiers to join in on the fun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- i love writing Michael Bennett he is best boy  
> \- practice action writing. I needed to practice this seems like a good excuse.  
> \- next chapter will probably be more plot stuff. that's right! this now has a plot!! stay tuned folks!  
> \- this chapter was just mindless fun for me and I won't apologize for it. twas good filler


	8. Fortes Fortuna Adiuvat

 

“A party?” Djore asked, looking up from the data pad. Lakshmi nodded, leaning over the table. The invite on the datapad was bright and flashy, coloured red and gold. ADVENT colours. The priest sat down on one of the plump chairs across from Djore and spread her arms.

“I’m allowed to bring one guest and they are allowed to bring a personal assistant. So, I thought that I would invite you and Merlin along.” She said. Djore frowned and set down the data pad.

“I don’t see why I would want to go.” He muttered, turning his attention back to his computer. His fingers were about to touch the keys when Lakshmi said something that froze Djore in place.

“The Speaker will be there.” Djore looked over at Lakshmi, who was watching him expectantly. Djore turned towards her, steeping his fingers.

“Go on.” He said. Lakshmi smiled knowingly.

“And he will have his personal Codex with him.” She said. Djore, retreated into deep thought, dark eyes narrowing as he thought about this opportunity. For months now, Djore had been trying to fabricate a plan. It was, so far, the most intricate plan that Djore had _ever_ masterminded, so much so that it depended on luck as much as strategy. If he could pull it off, _well_ … It wouldn’t matter who won the war eventually. Djore would still end up on top.

But this opportunity was golden. A party at the Speaker’s private estate, in the heart of the ADVENT coalition! It was almost too good to be true. Almost.

“This could be my chance to meet the Speaker.” Djore mused, staring into the distance. Lakshmi smiled wryly at her friend.

“Knowing you, you probably want a lot more than just a meeting the Speaker.” She said. Djore smiled, but didn’t reply, knowing full well that Lakshmi was correct. Djore had plans. This would be his most ambitious yet. It required finesse, and careful mastery of an entire social situation to pull off correctly.

Djore quickly stood and made his way to the back of the room and made his way to an old bookcase. He leaned down and peeled up a floorboard. He plucked a data pad out of the hole and blew the dust off of its otherwise shiny metal surface. He entered the passcode into the machine and it flickered to life, showcasing several files.

This datapad was the most important in Djore’s collection. He hid it for a good reason too. On this small rectangle was everything that he needed to know about XCOM, about the resistance factions, and about ADVENT. Everything from how many rolls of toilet paper were currently on the Avenger to the DNA sequencing of the Avatar. Had Djore not acquired this information he would not be in the position he was now.

Djore weighed his options carefully. Stay in the market and miss the opportunity of a lifetime or go down to the Speaker and try to carry out what was possibly _the_ craziest plan he had ever concocted. Decisions, decisions…

“When’s the party?” Djore asked.

“Next month. The Speaker will be at his estate in Dubai.” Lakshmi explained.

“How much security will there be?”

“The regular amount, maybe more.” She said. Djore thought about the invitation for a moment longer. He looked over at Merlin, who was sitting idly by on one of the divans.

“Merlin? How much does a formal suit cost nowadays?” He asked. The codex jolted upright and began to search through his files.

“ _Three-Thousand._ ” He said. Djore sucked in a breath through his teeth, weighing his options again. It would be expensive but the ultimate payoff of his operation would be amazing.

“All right. I’m in. Come pick me up two days before. That’ll give us time to prepare.” Djore said. Lakshmi smiled as she stood up.

“I knew you would be.”

 

* * *

 

 

A month of preparation, and most of that consisted of standing in a tailor shop in Kathmandu. The suit was very nice though, black and sleek. The shop-keep had insisted that the soft angles and golden trim were the height of fashion right now, inspired by the sleek designs of the Elder’s themselves. Djore straightened out the collar of the suit, fidgeting with the over large lapels and hidden buttons.

The Dubai City Center was as shiny and bright as it’s old world predecessor. The buzzing, vibrant night life and cutting edge technology had always been a staple of this manmade city, with or without the aliens. Djore looked out over the city from the train station balcony he was standing on. No surprise, even the stations in the city were fancy as all hell.

Beneath him, Djore could see the bright lights of the Speaker’s estate. It was built like a fusion between a modern villa, a shah’s palace and one of the elder’s temples. Bright white, domed roofs and the signature sleek curves of the Elder’s designs.

Merlin stood next to Djore, waiting patiently for Djore to move. Djore looked over at Merlin, spreading his arms out.

“What do you think?” He asked. Merlin’s red eyes quickly scanned over Djore’s suit.

“ _It’s the hot new look!”_ Merlin chirped in the voice of fashionista. Djore rolled his eyes and turned away from the codex.

“Where do you get all of those lines?” Djore muttered under his breath. “Let’s go. Lakshmi will be waiting for us.” Djore called, making his way down the large flight of stairs to the main road. Merlin followed suit, gliding down the steps to wait for Djore. Djore smiled and nodded his head appreciatively at Merlin’s courteous attitude. Djore had had to reinstall a ton of old ADVENT directives for being a personal assistant into Merlin. It had taken forever but the result was a disciplined, polite and loyal assistant. Djore had to admit that it was pretty nice to have someone wait on him.

As Djore got closer and closer to the estate, his confidence started to betray him. The mansion itself was monumental, made to inspire awe in anyone who got close. Djore kept his composure though. He had dealt with ADVENT enough to know the shiny lights and outer-space rococo fusion architecture was just a clever façade to hide ADVENT’s true colours as a tyrannical dictatorship.

Djore moved through the crowd of guests who were also moving towards the entrance of the mansion, searching for Lakshmi. Djore noticed with some disdain that all the other guests were wearing white, or light grey, with no distinctive trim. Evidently, his tailor had been a visionary and was using Djore as a model for his clothing. Great. Now he was going to stick out like a chryssalid in a crowd of puppies. But on the plus side, many of the guests looked a little jealous of Djore’s black suit, so at least he could take solace in being one of the most fashionable people at the party.

Finally, Djore saw Lakshmi, standing amongst a crowd of other priests. They were all shorter than Lakshmi, Djore noticed. Probably because they were of lower rank and therefore genetic quality. Lakshmi towered over the priests in her gold trimmed armour and shiny white helmet. She was wearing a slim cape over her shoulders, which fell neatly to the back of shins, shimmering a pearlescent white. Lakshmi usually forewent all of the fancy armour but tonight she donned the regalia of a true Cardinal.

“Lakshmi! You’re looking very ceremonial.” Djore said, spreading his arms welcomingly. Lakshmi turned to face him, her mouth wrinkling in impatience.

“And you’re looking very stylish. Where have you been?” She asked. The other priests behind her stared in confusion at Djore, wondering who he was.

“The tram was late, I hope you’ll forgive the inconvenience your grace.” Djore said, formally bowing. Lakshmi tried to supress an amused smirk. Djore was really putting on a show this evening, more so than normal.

He extended an arm to Lakshmi, who took it and led Djore over to the massive double doors that marked the entrance to the mansion.

As Djore and Lakshmi made their way into the mansion, Djore was aware of how odd they looked together. Lakshmi, tall, regal, and smothered in pearlescent white was a stark contrast to Djore, who was small, unimposing and covered from head to toe in black.

He tried not to think about it too much as they entered the main hall of the mansion and waded into the crowd of people.

The room was awash with white and neon lights. Everything was doused in gold and various shades of neon pink and red that moved with the slow rush of indoor fountains, creating a kaleidoscopic effect that danced across every surface. People milled about on the floor, mingling and picking little bites of food from silver platters carried by actual humans. Djore took a deep breath as he and Lakshmi plunged into the crowd. Djore hated the press of people around him but he kept up a diligent smile, nodding cordially to people he passed. Lakshmi leaned down carefully, making sure that her quiet whisper to Djore wasn’t noticed.

“They suspect nothing. Relax,” Lakshmi said. Djore nodded, letting go of her arm. Lakshmi nodded to the giant double staircases, to the crowd of people and guards on the top.

“The Speaker is up there. You’ll have to find a way to him on your own.” Lakshmi muttered.

Djore accepted a glass of bubbling champagne from a waiter, smiling pleasantly. “And where will you be?”

“Priests stay with the Speaker. Bringing you with me will arouse suspicion.” Lakshmi motioned towards a crowd of elegantly dressed people, laughing together at the base of the balcony. “Those are the people you want to talk to. They’ll help you up if you play your cards right.” She said. Djore nodded and raised the glass to Lakshmi’s, smiling.

“See you on the other side then.” He said, making his way through the crowd. Djore steeled his nerves as he made his way over to the crowd of people by the foot of the stairs. He observed them carefully, trying to figure out who the most important people were.

Djore carefully skirted the edge of the group, listening for snippets of conversation that he could hijack.

“Did you hear that Melanie…”

“Oh of course! He loves those things…”

“A baby berserker in the centre!…”

Djore rolled his eyes at them. They were just doing small talk. Djore turned and plucked one of the strange snacks off of a platter and tossed it into his mouth. The small foam laden cracker may have looked appealing but the flavours were barely palatable. Djore quickly downed a sip of champagne to drown out the overly salty taste, praising ADVENT for allowing the Speaker to keep bottles of old-world alcohol.

As Djore looked around the room he realized how similar this set up was to the old world. The poor languished in forgotten slums, the regular people barely scraped by with what money that wasn’t taxed, and the rich got to party it up in massive mansions, far above the masses. Djore had heard the phrase ivory tower used before but he hadn’t truly understood the meaning of it until now.

“Of course the, uh, _project,_ requires our support. The Elder’s wish to elevate us to the next level of evolution!” Oh?

Djore turned his ear towards the crowd of people, carefully listening to their conversation.

“Yes, but the taxes are _horrendous_! I understand we have to pay all the scientists and doctors and stuff but honestly,” A woman lamented.

“It will all be worth it once the Elders complete the project. This is all for us.” Another said, gently patting her friend on the arm.

Djore took a deep breath and plunged into the crowd.

“If you ask me,” He said, just loud enough so that they could hear him, “I think they’re scared.” Silence, as if all the air had been sucked from their surroundings. Seven pairs of eyes locked onto Djore.

“Scared?” An older man asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Why else would they be conducting this _specific_ project? The Elders are scared of something, they are trying to protect themselves.” Djore said. The air became even tenser, and he could sense them about to turn on him. And now to turn it around. “And in their eternal benevolence, they are scared for _us_ as well.” Djore comforted. He saw the veil of hostility lift from their faces. “When they ascend, we will all ascend with them, because they care for us. As they have given us gifts, we gave them a gift as well; compassion!” Djore intoned, putting as much passion into his voice as possible.

The crowd of seven smiled and nodded in agreement, smiling kindly. The old man across from Djore was quiet for a moment, before he laughed heartily.

“Well! You’re just a young Speaker aren’t you?” He said. Djore brushed the comment off with a wave of his hand.

“Thank you, but I assure you, I would never be able to reach the Speaker’s level of charisma. He is an orator without equal!” Djore said, humbling himself before the old man. He could see a gleam in the man’s eye as he extended a hand to Djore.

“My name is Betar Zagreda. I’m an administrator for the Eastern Europe sector.” He said. Djore took his hand and shook it firmly.

“Djore Pemba, goods distribution in Kathmandu,” He said. A white lie. Technically Djore did distribute goods, just not to the people that administrator Zagreda was thinking of.

“Nice to meet you Mr. Pemba. Tell me, have you ever thought of going into public speaking?”

And the evening went on as such. Djore would dazzle the administrator and his friends with radical comments and they would gush over how educated and well-spoken Djore was. It was all an act of course! Djore was using all of his wiles to convince these people of his supposed wisdom and piety to the Elders. In social circles like this, it didn’t matter what natural gifts like wisdom and looks you were bestowed with. The only thing that matters? Popularity. And Djore was becoming very popular with the highest-ranking circle of the ADVENT system.

Djore would occasionally glance wistfully at where the Speaker was and watched as Zagreda finally caught on. The administrator took Djore by the elbow and led him to the foot of the stairs.

“Djore, what would you see if I were to introduce you to the speaker?” He asked, quietly so that no one would hear and become envious. Djore opened and closed his mouth a few times like a fish gasping for air, mimicking the surprise he would have felt if he were anyone else.

“Would you?” Djore squeaked. Feigning excitement was easier than he had expected.

“An intelligent young man like yourself should do more in life than goods distribution.” Zagreda said. The peacekeepers standing at the base of the stairs didn’t stop Zagreda and Djore, who swiftly ascended the giant staircase. Djore was actually excited now. This was it! If everything went according to plan here… _Don’t get ahead of yourself Djore_.

As they reached the top of the stairs, and were ushered in through a massive set of double doors, Merlin, who had been at Djore’s side the entire time, quickly flitted through the crowd, making his way to a closed door at the back of the room.

Djore followed Zagreda through the crowd, maintaining a façade of childish excitement as he made his way towards the Speaker. From the corner of his eye, he saw Lakshmi glance at him, just quick enough to keep from being suspicious.

As Djore neared another set of doors, frosted glass panels that lead to the outside balcony, he got the distinct feeling that he was being watched. He glanced to each side quickly and out of the corner of his eye saw someone. There was nothing particularly interesting about him, except for the greenish reflection of his eyes, like an animal in the dark, and his vacant stare. Djore carefully leaned over to Zagreda and whispered, “There’s something wrong with that guy in the corner…”

Zagreda looked over at the man, too obviously and Djore sensed the things gaze move to another target. Zagreda chuckled and patted Djore shoulder comfortingly.

“That is just a precaution. No need to worry about it,” He said. Djore made a mental note to keep an eye on anyone who stared for too long.

Zagreda instructed Djore to wait outside the doors as he went out to meet the Speaker. Djore stood respectfully, with his hands behind his book, looking idly around, and staying out of site of the strange reflective eyes of the man in the corner. Djore turned as Merlin floated up next to him, humming happily. Djore raised an eyebrow at his codex, a quiet question that only Merlin and Lakshmi understood. Merlin nodded his head once and joined his hands together. Djore’s heart soared.

“Djore, the Speaker says he will see you,” Zagreda announced, loud enough that nearby priests and administrators stared at Djore with surprised and envious eyes. Djore nodded, trying to contain his excitement. This was it!

Djore was ushered through the balcony by Zagreda, and lead towards the man standing on the edge of the balcony.

The Speaker was only a little bit taller than Djore. Djore had to do a double take as he realized that fact. The Speaker had always seemed so imposing and tall on TV, but now he was… kind of small.

“Speaker! May I introduce Djore Pemba?” Zagreda said, gesturing to Djore, who gave a small bow to the Speaker and stuck out his hand. The Speaker took his hand shook it, smiling passively.

“Hello Djore. Administrator Zagreda speaks quite highly of you,” He said.

“Thank you Speaker,” Djore said, keeping his gaze down in a façade of humility. Djore remained quiet as Zagreda finished the formal introductions, and chatted with the Speaker for a moment. Djore took note of the odd marks on the sides of the Speaker’s face. News outlets always explained them away as birthmarks, or a skin condition. Djore could see Merlin from the corner of his eye, standing to the side and glowing subtly.

Finally, Zagreda left, leaving Djore alone with the most powerful man in the world. Djore took a deep breath as the Speaker turned to address him.

“I understand Zagreda believes your skills are underappreciated in your current position?” He asked.

Djore shrugged and placed his hands in his pockets. “He can think what he wants to think, I am quite happy with what I have going on,” Djore said, looking out over the expanse of ocean.

“Humility and satisfaction in life are truly signs of the Elder’s grace,” The Speaker said, falling naturally into the rhythm of a preacher. “They aspire for all humans to be content in their life. And you truly are a show of how their benevolence affects us all,” The Speaker announced, gesturing with his hands.

Djore had, during this little speech walked over to Merlin and accepted a data-pad, Djore’s data pad, from the codex. He smiled as he opened the newly downloaded files.

“That might be true, but I have always been a little _ambitious_ ,” Djore mused. The Speaker turned to Djore, and frowned.

A young man, clad in a raven black suit, trimmed in gold, stood next to a codex and smiled knowingly at the Speaker. Djore’s eyes glimmered within a sort of venomous glee that the Speaker dared not try to place. For the first time since Djore had stepped foot on the balcony, the Speaker actually _looked_ at him.

“In… what way?” The Speaker asked, shifting uncomfortably in place. Djore smiled and scrolled through the cluster of new information on his data pad and hummed happily.

“In the same way as you I suppose.” Djore said. “Viper cultural hierarchy is normally matriarchal, unless of course a King is born, but those circumstances are practically anomalous. It seems quite progressive for a male viper to rise to the top of the ADVENT pecking order,” The Speaker stared at Djore, serpentine eyes obscured behind dark glasses. He recomposed himself and laughed quietly.

“Viper? What are you implying?” He chuckled, trying to brush off Djore’s comment.

“Well your medical examinations from this year certainly imply a reptilian lineage, but I suppose if you say that you’re human that I’m not in a place to disagree. We are an enlightend people after all,” Djore shrugged, sipping from his champagne glass. The Speaker stared. What was this boy saying?

“And speaking of reptiles,” Djore continued, leaning against one of the pillars surrounding them, “Humans have a term to describe people who betray them. ‘Snake in the Grass’. If the residents of earth knew that you were slowly melting them down into goo, I really don’t think that your human presenting features would protect you from their wrath,” Djore looked up slowly at the Speaker, a sly smile on his lips.

The Speaker was almost visibly shaking now, holding onto the balustrade hard enough to turn his knuckles white. How did he know? Where was he getting this information? He looked at the codex, who stood idly by, watching events unfold. The codex! Had it done something to The Speakers codex, Metis?

This had never happened before. This subterfuge, this trickery! And it was human boy no less, that was threatening his life. Djore Pemba, who had seemed so small and unassuming, now made shudders of fear run up The Speaker’s spine. “What do you want?” He whispered. Djore smiled and walked closer, vulpine smile spread wide across his face.

“That, my serpentine friend, is easy,” Djore said. He walked up close, practically putting his face in the Speaker’s. “I just need you to write down my name in one database. Just one,” Djore said. The Speaker frowned. That was it? All this trouble and blackmail for one line of code?

“I suppose that can be arranged…” The Speaker said, unsure of where this was going. Djore smiled and showed his data pad, holding out for The Speaker. He stared at the line of code, and looked back up at Djore. Djore smiled charmingly, but the smile did not reach his eyes, which were as cold and unforgiving as black ice. The Speaker swallowed a nervous lump in his throat and carefully typed in the name; _djore_pemba_.

Djore smiled and retrieved the data pad from The Speaker. “See! That wasn’t so hard was it?” Djore’s voice was as smooth as velvet as he spoke. The Speaker was almost inclined to believe him, but could still not shake the feeling that he just signed away his soul the devil in human form.

 

* * *

 

 

Lakshmi watched as Djore exited the balcony, waving pleasantly to the Speaker, thanking him profusely for his time. Djore glanced at Lakshmi, and the priest knew, just from Djore’s smile and gait that he had succeeded. Lakshmi shook her head in disbelief and made her way over to Djore.

“You absolute madman. You actually did it?” She whispered. Djore grinned, almost barely able to contain his happiness.

“What, like it was hard? The guys a wimp,” He said, striding purposefully towards the exit. Lakshmi followed, excusing herself from the party by calling upon her duties as a priest. The unlikely duo walked out of the mansion, through the glittering fountains and to the overhang which looked out over the citycenter of Dubai.

“Well, phase one is complete I suppose. What’s next?” Lakshmi asked. She refrained from discussing how Djore had been able to succeed; those were details Lakshmi did not need to know.

Djore, who had already been making his way up the stairs towards the monorail that would take him back north stopped and turned to Lakshmi. His eyes shimmered like twin pieces of liquid onyx, filled with glee and, dare Lakshmi imagine, a sort of diabolical ambition.

“Now,” Djore declared, “We wait,”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Djore makes his first move. I wonder what he's planning...


	9. Not Exactly Human, Not Exactly Hostile

Djore hadn’t known much about Commander Alexandra Wellesley until he had first hacked into that fateful data file so many month ago. But even there, the information had been vague and limited. A veteran of the Gulf War, selected for her natural ability to command and lead, and for her unconventional tactics which had caught many an enemy off guard.

Once XCOM was officially launched following the alien invasion, it had taken only a single year for the aliens to overwhelm her forces and take her captive, leading to the formation of the ADVENT coalition. For such a prestigious military mind to be defeated so easily was a serious blow to the confidence of humanity.

But what intrigued Djore most was _why_ the aliens had been such a challenge for her to handle. True, the aliens had never waged traditional warfare, preferring raids and terror strikes to conventional ground invasions, but the tactics that they applied were, at the time, unnervingly similar to the Commanders. It was almost like the Elders were thinking just like her. Bradford had confided that in Djore one drunken evening as the XCOM troops partied it up in the market.

It was a mystery. At least until he got back from Dubai.

Djore had set up a meeting with Alexandra only a month after Dubai, troubled and yet excited the prospect of his discovery. The Commander showed up exactly one minute before the meeting was supposed to start, along with a gaggle of her favourite soldiers. Djore’s eye was drawn to someone he had never seen before, a man with a bright blue mohawk and black aviator shades, strutting along side the other troops, hair bobbing from side to side like the ridiculous plumage of some tropical bird.

Djore took a moment to look closely at the Commander. A woman in her late forties, or early fifties, with brown hair that was turning prematurely white. Physically imposing, with broad shoulders and a straight back, but aside from that… nothing that suggested that the Commander would be special to the Elders.

“Djore! Good to see you,” She said, making her way over to the wares table where Djore sat waiting.

“Commander,” Djore greeted, giving her a slight bow. “I see you’ve adopted a new rookie.” Djore remarked, nodding towards mohawk, who was gushing over the jukebox. Alexandra laughed and waved the comment off nonchalantly.

“He’s no soldier. That’s Joe Hampton, he runs the resistance radio,” She explained. Djore raised an eyebrow.

“I wasn’t aware that the resistance had a radio.”

“Well you do have to know which frequency he’s operating on to listen in. Speaking of which, his old base has been experiencing some sort of signal jamming. After our meeting, perhaps you would be willing to speak with him about setting up here?” She asked. Djore looked over at Joe, briefly catching his eye. Joe gave an awkward, forced smile and raised a hand. Djore turned back to the Commander and shrugged.

“I suppose I could. Shall we?” He asked, sweeping an arm towards the door to the back room. As Alexandra made her way to the back room, Djore gave the radio DJ another glance before following the Commander into his room.

Djore hadn’t bothered cleaning up too much for the Commander’s visit, allowing the stacks of data pads and papers to sit idly on desks and cupboards. Alexandra had already taken a seat at the desk, resting calmly in her chair.

Djore sat, pulling up his monitor and opening his file on XCOM’s recent gains. He carefully glanced at Alexandra again. Still, he could see nothing special about her.

“So, Djore, what is this meeting about exactly?” Alexandra asked, watching Djore as he stared intently at his monitor.

Djore clapped his hands together and turned to face her. “An excellent question! Commander, I want to talk to you about your post-war plans,” He said.

“Post-war plans?” She asked, tilting her head inquisitively. Djore nodded gesturing to the information on his screen.

“So far, XCOM has made considerable gains against the ADVENT administration; so much so that I can confidently say that you may have a chance of winning the war. It is astonishing how far you have come since Bradford busted you out,” Djore confessed. Alexandra smiled humbly and waved her hand, dismissing the complement. “However, and this is important, how are you going to organize a post-ADVENT world?”

Alexandra was momentarily stunned, before quickly regaining her composure. “I… must admit that I had not considered that,” She said. Djore nodded, fingers resting together lightly. “The only thing I know for certain is that ADVENT has to go. The Administration is a fascist dictatorship!”

“The current Administration is absolutely fascist,” Djore said, nodding his head sagely. “But… what happens after you destroy it?”

“What are you getting at?” Alexandra asked, eyes narrowed. Djores tone was nagging at her.

“What I’m getting at is whether you prefer complete anarchy or a more benevolent global administration,” Djore said. He met the Commander’s eyes, holding them for a few long seconds. Alexandra said nothing, simply watched him, so he continued. “My understanding of the situation is that anarchy creates a power vacuum that could allow warlords and psychopaths to rise into positions of power. And if that were to happen you would have a hundred smaller wars on your hands,” Djore explained. Alexandra nodded.

“You’re right. So what would you propose we put in place? Another ADVENT administration?” She asked, a light touch of sarcasm in her voice when she said ADVENT. Djore smiled.

“We can call it the XCOM administration if that makes you feel better,” He jokingly said. Alexandra gave a light scoff.

“Sure, why not?” She said. Djore smiled and leaned back in his seat.

“But that being said,” He started, carefully monitoring the tone of his voice. Alexandra’s smile faded slightly, and Djore tried to steel his nerves. “I don’t think that humans would care to be governed by another one of the Elder’s Chosen,” He had said it. Alexandra’s smile disappeared completely.

Her icy glare was almost enough to break Djore. She was quiet for a moment before she leaned back in her chair. “You think… that I’m one of the Chosen?” She asked, voice deathly calm. Djore produced his data pad, holding it close to his heart.

“I recently acquired an ADVENT file on you. Level 1 clearance. It doesn’t contain all the information, but it certainly insinuates that the Elder’s wanted to make you one of their Chosen. And may have succeeded…” Djore said. Alexandra pinched the bridge of her nose, sighing deeply. Then she stood, glaring at Djore.

“You have no proof of anything. This meeting is over,” She announced, making her way to the door. Djore stood quickly, cursing himself. He had counted on the Commander’s calm and rational demeanour.

“Commander, wait!” He yelped. Plan A failed, time for Plan B. Merlin, who had been standing non-invasively in the corner of the room, sprung into action when he saw Djore stand.

Merlin’s glowing orange hand extended out towards Alexandra, and purple psionics became visible around the codex’s head. They extended, wrapping around her own head.

What followed went by so fast that Djore wasn’t really sure what he saw.

The Commander’s eyes went wide, and the room suddenly dropped in temperature. Goosebumps rose on Djore’s arms, and he could suddenly see his own breath. A glass of water on his desk froze instantly, suddenly covered with frost. Alexandra’s form shimmered and a bright, baby blue veil of light was cast over her form. She spun towards Merlin. The codex reeled, buzzing and sparking as the sudden onslaught of psionics, psionics much more powerful than his own, pushed him back. The codex shut down, retreating into its physical form. The power of the blast caused several papers and data pads to fly up into the air, displaced by the blast of power.

Djore covered his own face with his arms, falling back into his chair harshly. Then, as if the blast were being sucked back up again, the room became still. Djore carefully removed his arms from his face, slowly opening his eyes.

All of the fallen papers and datapads were floating in place. Frost had crawled up all the walls, crawling up the walls and ceiling of the room. Alexandra stood in the center of the room, frozen in place like the floating debris around her. But most stunning of all, besides her loose hair flowing upwards or her glowing eyes, was the outline around her form. It was, unmistakeably, an _Elder_.

“Wha… _how_ … buh-uh, _you_ -“ Djore stammered, staring at the Commander. Alexandra looked at Djore, eyes focusing.

“Uh…” She began. The familiar double toned voice of an alien floated from her mouth. and Djore felt the hairs on the back of his neck rising. “I don’t know what the protocol is for revealing your secret identity is so… hi?”

 

* * *

 

 

“You’re an Elder.”

“Hah!” Alexandra snorted, leaning back into her chair. “The Elder’s _wish_ we were one of them,” She said, smoothing her wild hair down.

Djore stared at Alexandra. He hadn’t ever considered the idea that he would ever be afraid of her but now…

“What… what are you then?” He asked.

“An Ethereal,” She stated. She stated it so matter-of-factly, like she was telling him the date of her birthday, or her favourite type of tea. Djore took a shaky breath, hands pressed together.

“And what exactly is an Ethereal?” He asked. Alexandra sighed through her nose, crossing her arms in thought.

“The best way I can describe it is being an Elder without a body. We already transcended, and now are just chilling in the Aether,”  
“Wait, so the Angelis Ethereal–“ 

“Not an Ethereal. That’s just a title that they like to use to make themselves seem more important. Their real body is somewhere in stasis,” Alexandra said, dismissing the claim with a wave of her hand. Djore stared at her.

The Commander didn’t look like anything special. But she was! An Ethereal, living in the body of a human.

“Who are you?” Djore asked. Alexandra stared at Djore for a moment, seeming to contemplate whether or not she should tell him. Djore could still see flecks of blue psionics floating in her eyes.

“First thing you need to know is that we are two consciousnesses living in one body, but at the same time I am one person,” Alexandra said. Djore nodded slowly, pretending to understand what that meant. Alexandra sighed and gestured to herself. “I am the human you know as Commander Alexandra Wellesley. And I am Asaru,”

Asaru. Djore hadn’t seen that name amongst the list of Elders who ruled earth. Djore rested his head in his hands, taking a deep breath to stop himself from shaking. Of course. _Of course,_ the Commander was an Elder, or Ethereal or whatever. Suddenly the frantic need of the Elder’s to recapture the Commander made sense. And judging by her power and dismissive opinion of high powered psychic aliens, Djore would say that Alexandra, or Asaru, was incredibly powerful.

“You are right though,” the Commander sighed. Djore looked up at her, eyes narrowed.

“About…”

“Humans not wanting another Elder lording over them once this is over,” She said. Alexandra sighed, shaking her head in defeat. “If you figured out what I am then it won’t take long for regular people to find out as well,” she mused.

“Hey give me some credit, it took me over a year to figure it out,” Djore complained.

Alexandra sighed, crossing her arms. “Look. I figure you’re going to use this information as some sort of blackmail against me. That’s just who you are. But I’ll tell you now, you don’t need to. I don’t even want to run the world once this is over. I want to retire to a tropical island, lie in the sun and sip mojitos until I die,” She said.

Djore nodded quietly, still taking in the magnitude of the situation. The Commander had wasn’t interested in running the world, so Djore’s blackmailing scheme could be safely discarded.

“Great. Ok. Wow, that’s actually a relief,” Djore said. He ran his fingers over Merlin’s head, who was still knocked out from Alexandra’s psionics. He could literally feel his entire frame relax, and he practically melted into his chair.

“I believe this is the first time I have ever seen you relieved,” Alexandra laughed. “But tell me; since we’re talking about what’s going to happen post-war, what are you planning?”

“Once ADVENT falls there are two possible outcomes. Either humanity descends into anarchy and people start warring with each other just like the good old days, or we keep the system we currently have,” Djore said. Alexandra frowned in confusion.

“You… want to _keep_ the fascist police state?”

“No. We just keep the parts of the system that actually work,” Djore said, falling back into his rhythm. “We get rid of the martial law and obscene tax rate, replace it with something more liberal,” Alexandra nodded, finally interested in what Djore had to say.

As the Commander and Djore discussed what a post-ADVENT world would look like, free from the all of the less desirable, tyrannical traits of the Elder’s, Djore felt a rush of relief. Alexandra was not only completely willing to step down from her leadership position once the war was over, but she was on board with Djore’s plan to overhaul and instate a better, more benevolent administration. If Djore could prevent a complete collapse of society and continue to unite people under one government body, he could effectively prevent any further wars between factions.

The only obstacle now was actually getting ADVENT out of the way.

As the they exited the meeting room, Alexandra grabbed Djore’s hand and shook it. “Next time you think about trying to blackmail me, just remember that I am not entirely human. Ok?” She silently asked. Djore nodded.

“Yes Ma’am,” He said. Alexandra smiled and turned to walk back over to her soldiers. She stopped halfway there and turned back to Djore, snapping her fingers.

“Oh Djore! You’ve still got to talk to Joe about setting up shop here,” She called. Djore, who had all but forgotten about the radio DJ nodded. He watched as Alexandra called the man over. Joe grinned as he approached, taking Djore’s hand.

“Hey! Commander tells me you might be willing to lemme’ stay here,” He said. Djore smiled and nodded. As Djore got all of the formalities out of the way, chatting and laughing with the DJ, and discussing the terms of his stay at the market, Djore’s mind was pre-occupied with the thoughts rushing through his head. The Commander was prepared to do whatever was necessary to create a peaceful post-ADVENT world. All of the pieces were in place. A priest, a codex, a Commander, and his name in the ADVENT database.

Djore smiled to himself contentedly. Everything was going to be fine.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> alt title: everything's coming up djore  
> alt alt title: I'm blue daba dee daba da


	10. Karma is in the Eye of the Beholder

“And that’s it for today folks! Our second broadcast from the new Resistance Radio headquarters. And again, a big thanks to the Black Market for setting me up in their base. And remember, when XCOM wins, we all win!” Joe finished with a flourish of his hand and hit the on-air switch, shutting down the broadcast. Joe stood and bowed. Djore clapped politely from his place on the couch. Lakshmi and Merlin smiled, applauding the radio DJ along with him. Romulus and Remus, who were at the market to pick up a package, whistled and whooped approvingly. Blackjack, who was sitting on one of the armchairs, nodded approvingly.

“That was quite the broadcast Mr Hampton,” Djore commented. Joe sheepishly scratched his chin and laughed casually.

“Nah! This was actually a pretty calm one, normally I’m all over the place,” He said. Djore smiled and stood, stretching his arms over his head. It had been almost a week since Joe had arrived at the market, and so far, he made himself perfectly at home. Joe acted exactly how he looked; loud and boisterous, with the upbeat and almost non-stop stream of enthusiastic rambling of a seasoned radio DJ. His attitude was infectious. Even Djore’s grandfather couldn’t help but be uplifted by him.

“I have to admit,” Lakshmi said, “That I was a little bit unsure when Djore told me that there was a resistance radio, but I really quite enjoyed that,”

Merlin piped up next to her, “ _It-Was-Amazing!-Funny!-Happy!_ ” He chirped, enunciating each word with a clap of his hands.

“Aw shucks, thanks Merl’s,” Joe said.

Djore smiled and made his way over to his grandfather, helping him out of the arm chair. Ever since the bout of bronchitis he had gotten several months ago, his health hadn’t been the same. More and more often, he needed to stay in bed, too weak to get up and do anything. Even simple things like paperwork were becoming too much.

Not that Djore minded.

“You all right baba?” Djore asked. Blackjack huffed and muttered something about the chairs being uncomfortable.

“Yes, yes, I’m fine. I think I’ll head to bed now,” He grumbled, grabbing his cane and making his way to the back of the room.

“Sleep tight!” Djore called after him.

“Goodnight Mr. Pemba!” Lakshmi called. Merlin buzzed a goodbye. Blackjack idly raised a hand towards them before the door swung shut behind him. Djore sighed and turned towards the group of people settled on the sofas. They had begun to chat amongst themselves, mostly about Joe’s broadcast, with a smattering of other topics thrown in for flavour. Djore honestly hadn’t expected all of them to get along so well. Lakshmi and Merlin he could understand; both were ADVENT defectors. Romulus and Remus were twins so it was no surprise that they had a good dynamic. Joe was new though. Still, the way that they now complemented each other, laughing and talking so casually…

“Djore, what do you think?” Romulus asked. Djore walked over, leaning on the back of one of the armchairs.

“About?”

“About getting a proper sound system in here!” Joe chimed in. “One thing I always talk about is how I should find some old records to play and you have a jukebox so…” Joe said, stretching out the last word suggestively. Djore laughed and shrugged.

“If I could find something like that, I would, but I don’t exactly have the time or the resources for that kind of work,” He said. Remus raised a hand, carefully glancing at Djore.

“I could probably find something. I know a guy in Siberia who hoards old world tech,” He offered. Joe slammed his hands down on his legs, eye’s sparkling.

“Yes! That’s what I’m talking about!” He hollered. “Djore, dude, listen. If Remus can get this stuff in here I could make the show like, ten times better than it already is,” Djore nodded.

“Alright, I’m convinced,” He said, nodding to Remus, who sighed relievedly. “And while you guys talk about how you’re going to make that happen, I’m going to get some shut eye.”

A racket of unhappy protests went up from the group. Merlin buzzed unhappily, smoky head drooping.

“Aw c’mon Djore! We’re having fun here,” Joe whined. Romulus nodded, raising a glass in Djore’s direction.

“Another drink?” He offered. Djore shook his head, scooping Chairman Meow off of the floor.

“I have a chance to get a full night’s sleep today and I refuse to waste it. You try running an illegal trade circuit on three hours of sleep a night,” He said, making his way over to door to his room. The protests from the others were cut off by Lakshmi.

“Rest well then!” Lakshmi called after him. Djore smiled to himself as he closed the door. It was weird, having people he could actually consider his friends. Somewhat. Djore only really thought of Lakshmi and Merlin as friends. And still, he couldn’t fully bring himself to treat even them like that.

Who did that leave? Well, his grandfather and the cat. He gently rubbed Chairman Meow’s chin, eliciting happy purrs from the cat. Djore opened the door to his room and put his cat down. He strutted over to the bed, curling up on the sheets.

Djore undid his braid, running his fingers through his hair, and lay down on the bed, lying on his stomach. He sighed heavily, closed his eyes and tried to sleep.

… Tried. That was the working word here. Djore sighed, rolling over onto his back to stare at the ceiling. Hopefully the dull white walls would be boring enough to put him to sleep. He knew he would have no such luck though.

Djore wished he were more friendly. Perhaps if he went back downstairs now he could reincorporate himself into the conversation. He strained his ears, listening for the sound of laughter and the clattering of glasses. But it was quiet now.

Damn. They must have all gone to bed, he thought. Djore sat up and stared at his cat. Even Chairman Meow had fallen asleep at this point. Djore got up, pulling on a sweater that had been draped over his chair. He sat down, started up his computer and went to work.

Work, work, work. Djore didn’t seem to have time for anything else. Not for sleep, or fun, or friends, and that fact gnawed at his brain. But he couldn’t just relegate the duties to someone else. Baba was too old, Chairman Meow was, well, a cat, and as for the rest… he didn’t fully trust them. He wanted to, desperately, but he couldn’t bring himself to let anyone close enough for that.

Djore tapped away at the keyboard, trying to expel the intrusive thoughts from his mind, but the mindless work only served to exacerbate his anxieties. Djore pressed his hands to his eyes, sighing deeply. Maybe he should try to sleep again…

_Bang!_

Djore jolted in his seat. What the hell was that? He stayed quiet for a minutes, half-expecting the sound to have been a figment of his imagination. Djore’s ears strained against the silence. He then heard the unmistakable sound of the front doors opening. Djore stood, walking over to his door, opening it quietly. He tip-toed down the hallway, heart beating frantically.

“I swear to god, if that’s you Fal-Rai…” Djore muttered, peering into the main hall. He stopped in his tracks, his breath hitching his throat. _Oh no, no, NO!_

People. Men in body-armour, surging into the room with weapons in hand. Pipes, wrenches and crowbars. Djore spied one with a gun in his hands. Djore then realized what the sound had been. The lock on the door. It had been blown apart by a gunshot. The last person walked in through the door, and Djore felt a surge of anger, tinged with regret and fear.

_Vikas_. The slimy weasel had found the market and now stood in all his greasy pompadour glory in the centre of the room, staring up at the old Buddha statue. He still looked as ridiculous as ever, with the ridiculous black leather clothing and golden jewellery. He was looking around slowly, taking in the interior of the market.

Djore darted back into the hallway, mind racing. What should he do? They would come looking for him soon! Djore then remembered that there were people here with him. Baba! He dashed down the hallway to his grandfathers room. He burst into the room as quietly as possible. Blackjack was still asleep, undisturbed by the gunshot. Djore shook him awake frantically.

“Baba, wake up, we need to hide!” Djore hissed. He then heard footsteps and voices. The old man slowly woke, the deep creases on his face getting deeper as he frowned at Djore. There was no time. Djore dragged his grandfather out of bed and began pushing him towards the cupboard. It was big enough to hide in.

“Djore! What are you—” He said, tone dismayed. Djore pushed him into the cupboard, behind all of the clothes.

“There are people in our home. You need to hide,” Djore whispered. Blackjack quickly shut up, eyes wide. “Don’t make any noise, and don’t come out until I come back. If I don’t then… I don’t know. Just be safe,” Djore said. He shut the door before his grandfather could object and carefully looked out into the corridor. No one.

Djore darted out and quickly sneaked back down the hallway. He needed to find Lakshmi and the others. They could help him. But where were they?

Djore opened the nearest door, to an empty supply closet. No one. Djore swore under his breath and kept moving. Another door. Still no sign of anyone.

Djore had come full circle and was standing back in front of the door to his own room. He snuck in, finally releasing a breath he had been holding.

Then voices, much louder than before echoed down the hall. Djore spun towards the door, eyes wide.

“The kid should be down here,” A gruff voice said. Djore frantically looked around the room. He spotted a metal stapler he had been using paper documents. He grabbed it, dashing to the wall behind the door. It opened inwards, so Djore would be hidden.

Djore waited in painful suspense. He could hear doors opening and closing. Then, the sound of someone shouting in the distance. Breaking wood.

“Aw shit!” Another voice hissed. He heard the footsteps retreat back down the corridor towards the fight. Djore breathed a sigh of relief, eyes falling on Chairman Meow. He was sitting, wide eyed on the bed, fur puffed up. He could sense the danger. Djore listened to the sounds of the fight, trying to figure out what was happening.

He thought, for a moment he heard someone shout his name. Djore then had the horrible realization that one of his friends had woken up and walked straight into the ambush.

Djore stayed in place, listening intently. Eventually, the shouting died down, but no one came back down the hallway. Djore peeked his head out from behind the door to a suspiciously quiet hallway. He debated quietly with himself for a moment; go look or stay put…

Djore cursed his curious disposition as he exited his room, sticking close to the wall as he made his way stealthily to the main hall. He kneeled down and listened, poking one eye around the corner, just enough to see.

Romulus. He was kneeling on the ground, hands tied behind his back. He was sporting a new bloody nose, and it looked like one of his eyes was turning a shade of purple. Gloating over him was Vikas, who was staring down his nose at the gunrunner.

“Look, this has already gotten more annoying than I would have liked, so make this easier for yourself and just tell us where Djore is!” Vikas said, his voice mocking.

Romulus spat at his feet, glaring upwards. “Even if I knew I wouldn’t tell you. Djore keeps to himself you _dipshit_ , why the hell would I know where his room is?” He snarled. Vikas sighed and dismissively waved a hand towards Romulus. One of the men grabbed Romulus by the collar of his shirt and dragged him to a supply closet, roughly shoving him into it.

Djore didn’t wait to see what was next and he bolted down the corridor back to his room, and hid behind the door once more.

It didn’t take long before the door opened, stopping just short of Djore’s chest. He held his breath, trying not to give away his position. There was only one pair of footsteps. Djore wondered if he could take this person. He heard the ruffling of papers, doors opening, and bedsheets being moved. Djore heard a sharp gasp, followed by a meow. Djore cursed himself. Chairman Meow!

“Aw, hello little buddy!” The man said. Djore should have hidden the cat, though that was not a given that Chairman Meow would have stayed put. Djore peeked out from behind the door. The guy was holding a wrench, kneeling in front of the bed with one hand on Chairman Meow’s head. The cat was loafing on the bed, unconcerned with the affections being showered upon him.

Djore’s eyes flickered to his chair. It was light enough to pick up… Djore crept forwards, putting the stapler in his pocket. He carefully lifted the chair and crept up behind the man. He lifted the chair up over his head and just as he was prepared to bring it down, the man stood. He bashed his head against the chair.

The man jumped, spinning around just in time to catch a chair to the face. Djore gasped as the man fell over, crashing into a cupboard with a loud thump. Chairman Meow bolted out of the room, moving faster than Djore could react.

Djore cursed and spun around as the second man, this one carrying a pipe, sprinted into the room. Djore threw the chair with all his might catching the man off guard, and ran out of the door, jumping over the struggling intruder.

Djore cursed as three more guys appeared at the end of the hallway, he turned and bolted away, followed by shouts of “I found him!”, “He’s here!”. Djore slung himself around a corner, briefly glancing behind himself. Djore was slammed to the ground by a huge frame blocking his way. As he lay groaning on his back, stunned from the fall, the three men crowded around him. They stared down at Djore disdainfully.

“Jesus, what a pain…”

 

* * *

 

 

Djore came back to reality painfully. The throbbing in his head had been the only thing that seemed real to him for a few minutes, at least until he was unceremoniously dumped at Vikas’ feet. It was cold, and a light breeze ruffled Djore’s already loose hair. Djore could feel sharp gravel beneath his knees, and he realized they were in the sparring ring.

Djore looked up, eyes bleary. Vikas stared down at him from behind his nose, a smug smirk on his face. Djore tried for a smile, which came out as a grimace.

“Well, well. Djore Pemba, the prodigal son,” He gloated.

“Vikas. Son… of a bitch,” Djore countered, supressing his fear. “Not sure why you’re here, we don’t sell your brand of hair grease,” Vikas’ smirk turned into a sneer. He raised a foot a kicked Djore’s chest hard. Djore gasped, falling onto his back in the dirt. He grabbed his collarbone, trying to stem the pain.

“Wanna’ know how I found you?” Vikas asked, grabbing something from one of his henchman.

“Enlighten me,” Djore rasped, trying to sit up. Suddenly the arm he had been resting his weight on was swept from under him. Djore fell back down, head hitting the ground painfully. But the pain in his head became irrelevant as Vikas brought a broken stun lancer’s baton down on his arm. The electricity may have been out, but the sharp edges were still good. Djore let out a quick scream, grabbing his arm. He could feel the hot blood seeping from the cut.

“Your new friend, _the radio guy,_ ” Vikas said. Djore froze, staring blearily at his arm. He could hear the slimy creep chuckle. “Yeah, that’s right. Letting him use this place as a base? Not the smartest idea,” Vikas stabbed the pointed end of the baton into Djore’s leg. Djore bit back another scream.

“Besides! Who do you think was jammin’ his signal?” Djore froze, his gaze slowly moving to Vikas’ face. The bastard was grinning from ear to ear, leaning on the baton. Djore realized his mistake. The resistance radio. You had to know which frequency it was broadcasting on to hear it, which meant…

“You tracked him…” Djore whispered. He was cut off by a jab to the stomach. Djore buckled, curling up and tried not to retch.

“Figured he’d end up at your place. Thing about the two of us is that we’re… well we’re opportunists! Predators if you will,” Vikas said, rolling Djore onto his back with one foot. Djore’s mind was dizzy from the pain. He glared upwards, trying to focus on Vikas’ smug grin. “’Cept the difference is, is that you’re just second rate. I’m an _apex_ predator,”

Djore face suddenly exploded in pain. Vikas had brought the stun baton down onto his head, the sharp edges cutting into his eye. The pain was like fire, and his vision went red from the blood. Djore screamed this time, unable to keep his cool. Through his pain, he could see the stars in the sky start to spin, turning blood red. That probably wasn’t a good sign.

Another blow, this time to his shoulder. Djore wasn’t sure whether it was the pain or his mind playing tricks on him, but he swore he could feel the muscles and tendons connecting his arm to his body sever. The pain in his shoulder was shocking and burned with the intensity of acid, but his arm… no pain radiated down it.

Was he still screaming? He wasn’t sure but his throat hurt like hell. The another blow to his head, this one glancing off of the left side of his head. Djore jerked to the right, rolling over, trying to put weight on his left arm. It slipped out from under him, a puddle of blood forming beneath him.

Beneath the agony of his head, and the excruciating pain in his shoulder, Djore became angry. No, furious! The rage was bubbling in him like so much magma, ready to explode. If only he could move, or think properly. He was vaguely aware of Vikas saying something, laughing. Djore wanted him dead. Djore had never wanted to hurt anyone as much as he wanted to hurt Vikas, watch him scream and squirm, instead of being the one lying in a puddle of his own blood.

The onslaught of blows stopped. Actually, Djore wasn’t sure when they had stopped. One minute? A second? Ten minutes? Djore then realized that Vikas wasn’t looking at him anymore. Djore stared up at him through his good eye. He was staring somewhere else, a frown on his face. He was… listening? Djore’s ears were ringing, he couldn’t hear anything but his own heartbeat.

Vikas’ face suddenly contorted and he turned to the henchman that had been standing behind him, said something. He looked down at Djore, hesitating. He then began to run, out the other side of the sparring ring, towards the bedrooms.

Djore was warm. The puddle of blood he was lying in steamed in the cold night air. The stars were still spinning, more rapidly now, making Djore sea-sick. Djore wondered to himself, where had he gone wrong? Was it the meeting in Calcutta? Or his agreement with XCOM and the Chosen? Had his own arrogance finally caught up to him in some sort of warped karmic justice? He hadn’t hurt anyone, not really. Djore wasn’t religious, but he found himself praying, lips moving. He prayed to Buddha, to the Christian god, to Elders, to anything that would listen. Whatever he had done, he didn’t deserve this. He didn’t want to bleed out from his wounds on a patch of gravel in his own home.

The ringing in Djore’s ears had faded. But the world was quiet. Then a scream. Gunfire. The sound of bones snapping and gushing blood. Djore could hear words being shouted. Then one stood out to him. Rakshasa. Djore lay there, trying to discern the meaning. It sounded familiar.

Djore heard the doors open. He heard someone walking across the gravel, a lilt in their step, happy sounding humming. Djore’s blood tinted view of the sky was then interrupted as someone stood over him. Tall, dark, with eyes redder then Djore knew they should be. A sharp grin full of white fangs. Djore could see blood dripping from one of its hands.

The Hunter kneeled down over Djore’s mangled body. “Well that’s unfortunate,” He mused. _Why?_ Djore thought. Djore realized he was staring, eyes open. He must have looked dead from Khomain’s perspective. He forced himself to blink. The Hunter tilted his head curiously. “Oh. You’re not dead. That’s good,” He said. Djore suddenly felt like he was being thrown through the air. Djore spun his head away from the Hunter and threw up.

“Gross, but understandable,” The Hunter sighed. In the back of Djore’s head he slowly realized that he was being carried. He tried to speak, but his vocal chords refused to cooperate.

New hands on him, sudden as a freak thunderstorm. Djore vaguely recognized the person fawning over him. Then he felt chilled, like someone had wrapped him in a cool cloth. He sighed, muscles relaxing. As Djore began to fade out of consciousness, he wondered whether he would wake up.

 

And he did. Djore’s eyes fluttered open slowly. Everything was purple. That probably wasn’t good. But he felt calm, his shoulder didn’t hurt anymore, and the throbbing in his head was a dull, distant pain. He moved his eyes slowly, looking to his left and right. Next to him, tending to his head, was Lakshmi. Her eyes were closed, her face a mask of concentration. Her psionics danced around her like cloth and the air was thick with the smell of spices. Djore’s nose was clogged. He looked to his left. Merlin’s head, deactivated. Was he dead? He looked back over at Lakshmi and tried to turn his head.

Lakshmi’s eyes opened suddenly and she placed her hands on the side of his face. It stung like a bitch.

“Djore?” She asked, her voice full of cautious relief. Djore took a moment, tried to get his bearing, and clear his throat.

“W… where…?” Djore tried to ask. His voice was hoarse.

“The main hall. Um, the Duskwalker. He brought you here,” She said quietly, gesturing with a nod of her head. Djore turned, eyes unfocused. The Hunter was sat languidly on one of the knees of the Buddha statue, face resting on one hand. He wiggled his fingers at Djore and smiled.

“Wh… why are you here?” Djore whispered. The Hunter made a face at Djore.

“Seriously? You’re not even going to thank me? I should’ve left on the ground where I found you. Unbelievable,” He complained, a ridiculous fake pout on his face. Djore managed a small smile, flinching at the pain that accompanied it.

“Thanks,” He whispered, before descending into a fit of coughs. Lakshmi placed a cool hand on his forehead. Djore took a deep breath, trying to stay awake. He then felt another hand on his shoulder. He didn’t have to look behind him as the Assassin came into view. Tessura’s lips were pressed into a thin line. There was a spatter of blood on her cheek.

“Your codex sent all three of us a call for help. You would not call if something was not wrong. You were injured by that human,” She explained, gesturing to the floor. Djore’s eyes flickered to the floor. There, lying on the cold tile floor was Vikas, unconscious. Standing a few meters away was Neylor, arms crossed over his broad chest.

Djore slowly put the pieces of his rescue together. Merlin had realized what was happening, and with no time to waste had contacted the first people he could think of; the Chosen. Evidently they had taken it seriously enough to come.

“The others…” Djore whispered. The Warlock raised a hand.

“They are safe. We sent them to a room at the back of the monastery. Only one of them sustained any injuries. If it wasn’t for this Priest…” He explained, trailing off as he shot a glare at Lakshmi. Lakshmi flinched under his gaze. Djore nodded. Good. That was good. Everyone was safe. One of them was injured but that didn’t mean they were dead.

Vikas suddenly groaned and coughed. He was waking up. But strangely, Djore wasn’t afraid. In fact, he suddenly felt more awake, eye trained on the man that had tried to kill him.

Vikas slowly awoke, pushing himself off of the ground, a hand on his head. He opened his eyes blearily. They took a moment to focus and as soon as he could see again, he jerked back suddenly, almost falling back down.

“ _WHAT THE—”_ He shrieked, before quickly snapping his mouth shut when he laid eyes on Djore. “Wait, you, you’re supposed to be dead!” He said. Djore managed a small smile and a shrug. Vikas’ eyes rapidly darted from side to side, taking the Chosen. Djore knew how he felt. Meeting them face to face was intense.

“What the hell is this?” He hissed, turning to glare at Djore. “Some kind of, of—alien harem?” Djore heard Neylor scoff with disgust.

Khomain burst out in a fit of giggles. “A _harem_? Are you kidding?” He laughed. He then settled into a quieter chuckle. “Well none of us have tried to sleep with him yet, but here's to future opportunities!” 

“ _Brother_ ,” Tessura warned. Djore didn’t care though; the look of confused disgust on Vikas’ face was reward enough to deal with the Hunter’s comments.

Djore started to lean forwards, trying not to grunt from the effort that took. Lakshmi held out a hand in front of him, like a concerned parent. Djore, very painfully, made eye-contact with Vikas. For a moment, he could literally see the chills run up his spine. Djore swallowed and spoke.

“Remember what you said? About us being predators? If you knew anything about biology,” Djore said, raising his working arm and gesturing behind him. “You would know that the most effective ones always work in packs,” Vikas’ eyes went wide and darted between each of the Chosen. Out of the corner his eye, Djore could see Lakshmi tense up, casting a worried glare in his direction.

Djore leaned back, exhausted from the effort of just speaking. Khomain stood, and slowly stalked to Djores side. “Well then, what _shall_ we do with him?” He asked. Vikas’ head snapped to attention, fear filled eyes wide as dinner plates.

“Indeed,” Tessura said, hand moving towards her sword. “He needs to be dealt with. We must set an example, a punishment,” Vikas then looked at her. His lower jaw began to tremble.

“Punishment? We should kill him, exile his soul to the void. Let him writhe in eternal torment!” Neylor countered. Vikas looked terrified, eyes welling up and body tense as a rubber band. Djore felt a smile crawl onto his face. He was enjoying this, probably more than he should be. Djore glanced at Khomain from the corner of his eye, catching the aliens eyes. Khomain smiled a dagger toothed grin, quickly picking up on what Djore was thinking.

“Death isn’t really a punishment though, is it brother dear?” He asked. Vikas, frozen in fear, stared up at the three aliens. “If you ask me, we should let him live, and give him a little something he’ll never forget…” Khomain’s gaze fell on Vikas, causing the little weasel to actually whimper in fear.

“Should I scorch his mind? Madness seems an appropriate penance for this transgression,” Neylor said, purple psionics appearing around his head, filling the room with the smell of ozone.

“Then he would not know what his punishment is for. I say I remove a limb,” Tessura offered, glancing at Djore as she reached for her sword.

“We bust his kneecaps! Like humans used to do,” Khomain offered, reaching for his pistol.

Djore held up a hand. All three Chosen stopped reaching for their weapons and turned to look at him. Djore felt a rush of satisfaction as they all stared at him, patiently waiting.

Djore took a hold of Lakshmi’s hand and slowly began to lift himself off of the seat.

Lakshmi carefully helped him up, eyes wide. “Djore, careful,” She whispered. Djore slowly stumbled forwards, eye trained on Vikas. The hustler took a deep breath, and stared as Djore limped forwards. Djore stopped only a few centimeters away from Vikas’ feet. Without taking his eyes off of Vikas he turned his head towards the Warlock.

“Put him on his knees,” He said. With a twist of his hand, Neylor forced Vikas to his feet. The purple psionics flared brightly, filling the air with the scent of ozone, as Vikas was pulled by a giant invisible hand, forcing him to kneel at Djores feet.

“Djore, wait hold on, we can work something out—” Vikas pleaded but Djore quickly cut him off with a finger held to his lips.

“Do you know what I think?” Djore asked. “I think that tongue of yours causes more trouble than its worth. I think those eyes of yours see just a little too many secrets,” Djore said. There was a silence as Vikas tried to figure out what Djore was saying. The Chosen beat him to the punch though. Djore heard The Hunter take in an excited breath, a twinkle appearing in his eyes and he shared a look with his siblings. Tessura nodded her assent. Vikas finally caught on, and his eyes widened even more.

“No wait—”

“Hold him down,” Djore ordered. He turned to the Assassin, holding out his good hand. “Tessura. May I borrow your knife?” He asked. She nodded, producing the blade from within a secret compartment within the swords handle. Djore took it in his hand, weighing it in his palm. It was as big as a sword to him, but no matter.

“Khomain?” He said, turning to the Hunter. The alien was staring at Djore with wide curious eyes, incredulous. He looked exhilarated by this turn of events, “Hold his mouth open,” Djore ordered.

Vikas screamed as the Hunter grabbed his jaw, forcing it open and holding the wiggling tongue in place. Djore placed the blade of Tessura’s knife inside the hustlers mouth, and began to cut. Djore had expected it to be difficult, but the Assassins knife was sharpened to a razor fine edge. It cut through the muscle like butter. A moment passed, and it was done. The tongue fell onto the floor with a pathetic _slap_. Khomain, as if on cue, released Vikas’ limp jaw, and moved to his eyes, keeping them open with his fingers.

Djore’s mind was a buzz as he removed Vikas’ eyes from their sockets. He barely registered the horror of what he was doing. Djore stepped back, almost toppling over. He was dizzy, and the room span. But he managed to stay on his feet. He stared down at Vikas. No pleading or screaming now. Just heaving breaths, soundless compared to before. Djore looked up at the Chosen, eyeing them with his good eye. The other one was starting to burn like never before.

“Dump him at his camp. They’ll know what happened. Let him be a message to anyone who wants to fuck with me,” Djore murmured, handing the Assassins knife back to her. Tessura nodded, placing the blade back into her sword handle. Djore took one last look at Vikas, before turning to the Warlock. “Break his hands, just in case he tries anything,” He ordered. Neylor bowed his head, a strange look in his eyes. He grabbed Vikas by the collar of his jacket, and they were gone in a beam of purple light.

Djore turned back to the seat. Lakshmi stood in the far corner of the room, hands over her mouth. She looked horrified, her wide purple eyes full of fear and disgust. Understandable, Djore thought, she had just watched him mutilate someone. But Djore didn’t feel guilty. This was karma for his own wounds.

His legs buckled, unable to support his heavily injured frame any longer. He didn’t hit the floor however, as Lakshmi caught him with her psionics, rushing forwards to hold him. Djore’s head lolled and he saw the remaining Chosen. The Assassin was watching him with a new found respect in her eyes, seeing him as an equal to herself. The Hunter however, had the strangest look on his face. Pride and excitement, and something else.

Djore turned to Lakshmi, who cradled him in her arms, face still a mask of dismay. Djore smiled up at her, placing a hand on her shoulder. He tried to speak, to tell her that he was fine, but fatigue caught up with him. Djore sank into unconsciousness once more. Djore’s last thought was that he could use a good long nap.


End file.
